iPsychic
by abracadabra94
Summary: Freddie Benson has a secret. He can read minds. But there's one person whose mind he can't read, and it's driving him crazy. A Seddie multi-chapter fic.
1. iKnow What You're Thinking

**Hola. So I know many of you were probably disappointed by iStart a Fan War. I can agree that it was very disappointing (mostly due to the lying promos), but I'm not giving up hope yet. Season 4 just started, and there is supposed to be a season 5, so there is plenty of opportunity for Seddie to happen. Besides that, everyone was expecting iSaFW to answer the Seddie/Creddie question. Have you ever known Dan to do anything that was expected? ****I still think Dan is a genius, even if he did disappoint me and kind of (figuratively) spit on us by saying the super-fans had no lives, although I don't think he really meant it. But just remember my fellow Seddiers: it's not over yet. Mwahaha.**

**Have you noticed I say "mwahaha" a lot?**

**Anyhoo, this is the supernatural fic I've been talking about for a while. I actually haven't seen any other iCarly fics with this plot, so I think the idea is pretty original, but then again I obviously haven't read them all so I can't be sure that no one has used this same idea before. The story starts when the iCarly gang is in the sixth grade. I hope you guys like it and that it cheers you up a little if iSaFW disappointed you. **

**Disclaimer: [Insert incredibly awesome and funny disclaimer explaining that I'm not Dan Schneider here.] **

I knew what she would say before I ever asked the question. What little bit of confidence I had mustered to actually do this diminished as soon as I saw her face. Stupid me, I hoped for the billionth time that just this once, I could be wrong. Against my better judgement, I decided to ask her anyway.

"Carly?"

The beautiful, dark-haired girl turned around to face me. "Oh, hey. You live in the apartment across the hall from me at the Bushwell, right?"

"Yep," I said. That made me a little bit hopeful. At least she knew who I was. "I'm Freddie."

"Nice to meet you Freddie." She gave me a warm smile and extended her hand, which I shook. She seemed like a nice girl. One who might give me a chance. Maybe for once I would be wrong after all.

"Nice to meet you too. Can I ask you something?"

"Uh…sure." _I hope he doesn't ask me out or anything._

And there it was again. I already knew how she felt, but I just refused to believe I was right and asked her anyway. "Would…would you maybe…possibly…consider going on a date…with me?"

_Oh, why'd he have to ask me that? _"Um…I…I'm sorry Freddie, I…I don't think so. Not now anyways." She gave me a sympathetic smile and walked away from her locker.

And I knew that "not now" meant "not ever."

* * *

When I got home from school that day, I knew as soon as I walked in the door that Mom wanted to give me a tick bath. She was busy sitting on our plastic-covered couch, disinfecting the remote control, so I tried to sneak to my room as quickly and as quietly as possible.

"Freddie!"

Shoot.

"How was your day? Did you remember to wash your hands before you ate lunch? Did you make sure to sit far away from all the other people at the front of the bus?"

"He-hey Mom," I said. "Yes, I did everything you told me to do. Well, I'm really tired. Long day at school. I think I'm just going to head to my room now and…"

"Wait!" she shrieked. "Why are you tired? Are you not feeling well? Do I need to take your temperature or maybe take you to the hospital?" She put her hand on my forehead to feel it for fever while trying to pry my mouth open with a tongue depressor.

"Mom. MOM. I'm fine. I'm not sick, just tired is all. Okay?" Oy, I should've seen that coming. Actually, I did see that coming.

"Well…alright. You can go take a forty-five minute nap." _But he still needs a tick bath. _"But I want you to wait a minute first while I give you a quick tick bath. There could be a tick outbreak at any moment you know!"

I sighed, but I let her give me the tick bath anyway. I really never stood a chance at avoiding it. I'll spare you the details, but I can tell you that the bath definitely wasn't pleasant. Finally the bath was over and I was allowed to go to my room. I plopped down on my bed and closed my eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

What good was being psychic if I still couldn't change anything for the better?

**Really short chapter, I know. Sorry about that. And I'm sorry there was no Sam in it. She's coming into the story soon, I promise. **

**I'd love to know what you guys think of this so far. I've never written a supernatural story. Good? Bad? Should I continue? Let me know! Criticism is both accepted and appreciated. Thanks for reading guys. :) **


	2. iMeet Sam and Her Ham

**¿Que pasa mis amigos? What's that? You say this story is supposed to be in English? Darn. Oh well, that's probably for the best, considering I know very little Spanish and the story would probably end up sounding like it was written by a deranged 3-year-old.**

**So I'm updating a little earlier than I had planned. Yay! I was going to work on this when my Thanksgiving break started on Wednesday, (or Tuesday I guess, since that's the last day of school before the break), but I actually finished the chapter last night so all I had to do today was proofread and tweak. Besides, I don't feel very well (I think I'm catching a cold. Boo) and I don't feel like doing my homework right now.**

**I'd like to address a few reviews that were comparing this story to Twilight. The truth is, I haven't read or seen Twilight. Well, I actually read the first page of the book in a creative writing class I took at my "geek" camp (as my friends like to call it), but that's it. I wasn't even aware that Edward could read people's minds; much less that he couldn't read Bella's. Any similarities between this story and Twilight are purely coincidental, I swear. Oh, and there's no vampires. Sorry. Vampires aren't really my thing.**

**Oh, and if you were disappointed by iSaFW, and if you haven't gone to Danwarp's blog recently, go there now. Dan has addressed our issues with the episode. He really didn't mean to upset us. Come on, how can we stay mad at Dan? It's like trying to stay mad at a puppy. :)**

**Disclaimer: You want proof that I don't own iCarly? Has Seddie happened yet? No? Cibby? No to that one too? Then I don't own iCarly. Moira's mine though.**

"Freddie Bear! Seven AM! Time to get up!"

I groaned and pulled the covers over my head as my mom opened my door and light flooded my bedroom. "You know Mom," I said groggily, "most kids get to sleep in on Saturday mornings."

"Now Freddie, if I let you sleep in later on the weekends than I did on school days, it would disrupt your sleep pattern. Disrupting sleep patterns is very bad for a growing boy's brain development. Don't tell me you forgot the rhyme!"

"No Mom. I didn't forget the rhyme."

"Weekend snoozing…"

"Lead's to brain cell losing," I finished. "Yeah yeah, I know. I'm getting up." I reluctantly pushed the bedspread off of me and slid my feet onto the cold floor.

"That's my good Freddikins," Mom smiled. "Now put on your slippers and come get some breakfast. I don't want you walking around barefoot. Remember…"

"If you walk with no shoes you might step on something and get a bruise. Yeah Mom, I know."

* * *

I poked at the strange, green blobs on the porcelain plate my mom had set in front of me. Mom said they were gluten-free veggie pancakes. They smelled more like dirty socks than pancakes. I didn't really want to know what they tasted like, but when Mom looked up and saw that I hadn't eaten, I decided that trying a bite would be better than suffering through her "Big Boys Eat Their Vegetables" song that I knew she was about to start singing. They tasted worse than they smelled, but I managed to choke down enough to satisfy my mom.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Mom said as we finished cleaning up the kitchen. She reached into the fridge and pulled out a large Tupperware container full of a green sludge that looked suspiciously like a smoothie made out of those veggie pancakes I had just eaten. She handed it to me.

"Um…what's this for?" I asked nervously, hoping she wasn't about to make me eat it. Whatever it was. But then I heard her thoughts and realized she didn't want me to eat it, but to give it to someone, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, Mom didn't realize I had read her mind and started explaining anyway.

"I need you to take this to the apartment across the hall," she said. "You know the people that moved in there recently? The Shays? Well I saw the older brother in the elevator yesterday after he'd just been to the grocery store, and he'd bought nothing but junk! All he bought for himself and his little sister was a box of taco shells, six bottles of soda, a ham, a box of those Fat Cake things, and two dozen sticks of butter! Why he needed that much butter I'd rather not know, but I told him that was no way to be taking care of a growing little girl and that I would make a nice, wholesome meal for the two of them. I think once they try this fat-free broccoli casserole they'll realize how much better it is than that junk food. So I want you to take this to them. I'd take it to them myself, but I have to go to work."

"Sure Mom. I'll take it to them." I wasn't exactly thrilled about going to the Shay apartment after getting rejected by Carly the day before at school, but I supposed it was better than having to eat the broccoli casserole myself. Besides, maybe they'd let me have some of their "junk food," as my mom called it. I hadn't had a taco or a soda in ages, and I'd never eaten a Fat Cake in my life.

"Thank you Freddie," she said, grabbing her purse and preparing to leave for her job at the hospital. "Now don't stay at the Shay's too long. And call me if you need me. And call 911 if there's a fire or a burglar or anything else that makes you feel unsafe. Moira's down the hall if you need her, and don't leave the eighth floor without telling her. Be a good boy. I love you." She started to leave, but then turned back around. "And be careful around those Shays." She leaned close and whispered, "I think they might be a little crazy."

I managed not to laugh at how ironic that last statement was, and assured my mom that I wouldn't get into any trouble while she was gone. Mom seemed satisfied, told me that she loved me and to be a good boy (again), and left the apartment.

* * *

I walked up to apartment 8C and tentatively knocked on the door with my right hand, holding the (probably inedible) broccoli casserole in my left. After a moment the door opened to reveal a tall young man with multi-colored neon paint splattered all over his clothes, skin, and hair.

"Well hello there, young person who looks strangely familiar for some reason I can't recall," he said. I could tell he was racking his brain trying to figure out why he should know me. _Where do I know this kid from? Uh oh, I hope he's not the one I accidentally set on fire that one time. Nah, no way his hair would've grown back that fast. Maybe he's the one I spilled paint all over when I was taking my paint cans for a walk? No, wait, that was a chick. A hot chick. I think she was even hotter covered in periwinkle paint. Heh, periwinkle. That's a funny word. Man, I wish I had that paint-girl's number. I bet she'd like the word periwinkle. Or she'd just scream at me again. She was so hot…_

"Hi," I said, trying not to hear any more of the man's weird and slightly disturbing thoughts and extending my hand like my mom taught me to do when arriving at a person's home. "I'm Freddie Benson from apartment 8D."

"Oh yeah! You live in the apartment across the hall with your mother. Man, she is really craz…I mean…won't you come in? I'm Spencer by the way."

"Thanks Spencer," I said, walking into the apartment. The Shay's had only moved into this apartment about a month ago, and there were still unpacked boxes everywhere, along with lots of junk food and a giant collage-like sculpture in the center of the room that consisted of a bunch of giant books about law that were spattered with the same neon paint as Spencer.

"Are you an artist?" I asked, hearing his thoughts to tell that he really wanted to tell someone about the sculpture.

"I am," he said proudly. "Well, actually, I'm supposed to be a law student, but I decided recently that I didn't want to be a lawyer. So I'm taking all my text books and turning them into a masterpiece! Isn't it cool?"

"Yeah…" I said, looking at it sideways. "It's nice." I knew Spencer needed the positive reinforcement. According to his thoughts, Carly had been pretty upset with him when he quit law school after only four days.

"Thanks!" he said. "So what brings you here anyways?"

"Oh, yeah. My mom wanted me to give you this." I handed him the casserole.

"Uh…thanks." _This stuff reminds me of the time I ate fourteen corndogs right before going on the tilt-a-whirl ride. _

"You ate fourteen corndogs and then went on a tilt-a-whirl ride?" I said before I could stop myself.

Spencer scrunched his eyebrows together. "How'd you know that?"

"Uh…" Oops. "You…you told me that."

"I did? When?"

"Just now."

"But I thought I didn't say that out loud."

"Well you did."

"Are you sure? Because…"

"Yep. You said it. Just now. Out loud. And I heard you."

"Oh…okay then. Well…sorry for insulting your mom's…whatever this green stuff is."

"Fat-free broccoli casserole," I said. "And it's okay. I think it's gross too, but I'm kind of used to this kind of stuff by now. My mom would never let me eat any kind of junk food."

"Really? So you've never had a Fat Cake or anything?"

"Nope."

"Well you have to try one right now! They will change your life!" He set down the casserole and reached for the box of Fat Cakes on the counter.

"SPENCER!" called Carly's voice from upstairs.

Spencer stopped and called back to his sister. "YEAH?"

"THERE'S SOME SORT OF PURPLE GOO IN A BUCKET IN THE SHOWER!"

"GREAT! THE GOO'S FINISHED! I CAN PUT IT ON MY SCULPTURE NOW!" He started running up the stairs, but then remembered I was still there and stopped. "Oh, Freddie, I'll be back. You're welcome to stay down here and help yourself to some Fat Cakes. And there's some Peppi Cola in the fridge too. Just whatever you do, don't touch the h…"

"SPENCER! THE GOO IS GROWING!"

"WELL TELL IT TO STOP GROWING!"

"I DID, BUT IT DIDN'T LISTEN!"

"HANG ON! I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!" Spencer sprinted out the stairs, leaving me wondering what he was about to say. I know what you're thinking, I should already know what he was about to say, but sometimes people speak at the same time that they think, which is what Spencer did. And when he was interrupted, he apparently didn't think about it again. All I knew was that there was something I shouldn't touch, and I got the feeling that it was _very_ important that I not touch it.

I figured since Spencer told me it was okay, I could have a Fat Cake. I reached for the box and pulled out one of the pink, cellophane-incased treats. I opened it and took a cautious bite. An amazing sensation danced across my tongue; one I wasn't used to. It tasted…sweet. I hadn't tasted anything sweet in so long, I had forgotten how good it was. I took another bite, and another, and another. It was so good. Finally I had eaten the whole Fat Cake, and reached for another, eating it all as well. My mouth was happy, but now I was thirsty. I decided I'd have one of those Peppi Colas. I reached into the fridge and pulled a bottle of soda out, opening it and taking a large sip. It was sweet too, but in a different way from the Fat Cakes. It was cool and crisp and bubbly and it was refreshing on my tongue. I had forgotten how good food could taste when it wasn't all gluten-free, fat-free, vegetarian sludge. I took another sip and looked back into the fridge to see what else they had to eat.

On the top shelf I spotted a ham. Well, half a ham actually, but it still looked delicious. The closest I had come to eating meat in the last six years was a fish oil capsule.

Spencer hadn't said I could have the ham, but I _really_ wanted it. Besides, it was already half eaten. Maybe if I just took one little piece...

I was reaching for the ham when suddenly I felt a heavy weight meet my back and I fell to the ground. I struggled to get up, but whatever was on my back was too strong for me.

"Spencer! Help!" I yelled. Spencer rushed downstairs, set down his bubbling bucket of goo, and removed an angry blonde-haired girl from my back.

"Sam," said Carly, who had come downstairs right behind Spencer, "can't Spencer and I leave our living room unattended for five minutes without having to worry that you're going to try and kill our house guests?"

"He tried to eat my ham!" she shouted.

"That's no reason to pounce on the poor boy," Carly scolded.

"Where did you even come from?" I gasped, getting up from the floor shakily. Usually whenever someone came into a room, even if I didn't hear the door open, I could hear their thoughts and know they were there. But I had had no idea anyone was in the room with me until I hit the ground.

The girl managed to get free of Spencer and took me by the collar, pulling my face close to hers. "I'm _everywhere _Boy," she said. "Just remember that next time you think about eating Sam Puckett's ham."

"I-I thought it was the Shay's ham."

She looked like she was going to attack me again, until Carly intervened with a warning "Sam…" Sam let out a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

"Since we just met," she said, "I'll let you off easy this time." Funny, I didn't really think that pouncing on me like a deranged leopard was letting me off easy. "But next time, remember: _all_ ham belongs to me. And Momma doesn't like it when people touch her ham."

"Ye-yes ma'am." She smirked and let go of my collar, walking over to the fridge and grabbing her ham. Then she reached into Spencer's bucket of goo with the hand that wasn't currently holding the ham, grabbed a handful of the strange purple substance, and threw it onto my shirt. She smirked with satisfaction and took a large bite of ham.

"Later Carls," she said. "Later…dork." And with that she sauntered out of the apartment, ham and all.

I didn't know what had just happened, but there was one thing that was confusing me more than any other part of this strange visit to the Shay apartment. For the first time in my life, I met someone whose mind I couldn't read. I didn't have any idea why this would be, but I was going to find out. I had to talk to Moira.

**Who's Moira you ask? Well, you'll find out next chapter. ;) **

**Oh, and for people reading this who've read Twilight, could someone explain to me why Edward can't read Bella's mind? I don't want to make my story the same as Twilight.**

**Review? Por favor? **


	3. iHave a Talk with Moira

**Okay, so it's been a while since I've updated. Sorry about that. Part of the reason why is explained in the extremely long author's note of my (late) Thanksgiving one-shot. The other reason is that this past week of school has been the proverbial week from hell, filled with multiple essays to write and tests that actually looked more like exams. But it's all better now because on Friday I went to see Jonathan Coulton in concert, and he was (dare I say it) FANTASTIC. If only anyone understood the joke I just made there. Sigh. We need more geeks on Fanfiction.**

**A big thank you to all the reviewers who told me why Edward can't read Bella's mind. Luckily, my idea is a bit different from Stephanie Meyer's. Yay for not having to change my idea completely to avoid seeming like a plagiarist. Or is it a plagiarizer? I don't know. Spell check seems to think both are right, because there's no red squiggly. Then again, it does have a red squiggly under "yay," which I'm pretty sure I spelled right. Leave it to spell check to constantly tell people they have misspelled everything from "yay" to their own name and then not help them when they actually need it. Way to go Bill Gates. Way to go.**

**Disclaimer: I "diss" the "claim" that I own iCarly. Wow that was lame. I'll just say I don't own it. How's that?**

I walked into apartment 8A without even knocking. I'd learned long ago that knocking on Moira's door was pointless since she already knew I would be coming anyway. Of course, when my mom was with me I still had to knock, but that was just for show.

The dimly lit apartment was empty, and I wondered where Moira could be. She had to have known I was coming. She always knew. I walked over to the old oak table and found a plate of fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies and a yellow sticky note that read,

_Freddie,_

_I'm in the bathroom right now. I'll be out in just a moment. You can help yourself to some cookies, though I doubt you want them._

_-Moira_

I decided it was best not to try the cookies. I loved Moira, but she was a terrible cook. Even though she did use sugar and other normal ingredients, her food usually came out tasting worse than my mom's. And that was saying something. I sat down at the table and tapped my fingers, looking around. It was starting to get a little late in the day, and the apartment was a little dark. Moira rarely turned on the overhead lights in her tiny apartment, instead leaving the windows bare of curtains and blinds and letting the sunlight stream in. She always said that natural light was better than anything humans could make. In darker spots where the sun didn't reach well, she used old-fashioned oil lamps for light.

My eyes rested on the lamp in the corner that Moira had let me paint when I was little. The lamp was covered in pictures gray boxes that were supposed to be computers. It was truly hideous, thanks to my lack of artistic talent, but Moira still claimed it was her favorite thing in the whole apartment.

"Well hello Freddie! What brings you here?" said the pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman cheerfully as she came out of the bathroom. She sat down across from me at the table and pushed a strand of long, silver hair behind her ear. She smiled at me warmly and her lavender eyes sparkled.

"Hi Moira," I said. "Well, I kind of have a weird problem." Moira was the only other psychic I'd ever met. She didn't have the ability to read minds, or telepathy as she told me it was called. Moira had clairvoyance: the ability to see into the future. You might think that would mean that she would already know what my problem was, but she'd explained to me before that if I assumed she already knew everything and didn't tell her, there'd be nothing in the future for her to see.

"I see. And what kind of weird problem?"

"Well, you see, there's this girl…"

_Isn't he a little young to be having girl problems? _Moira chuckled in her mind, fully aware that I could hear her.

"Hey! I'm not too young! I'll be twelve pretty soon you know, and that's only one year from being a teenager. But I'm not having _that _kind of girl problem. Well, actually, I am, but that's a completely different girl."

"My my Freddie, I didn't realize you were so popular with the ladies these days," she said, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips.

"Moira, I'm serious. I don't know what's going on and it's really freaking me out!"

"Okay, okay. No need to get your big boy panties in a bunch. Tell me what the problem is."

"Well I guess my mom told you I was going over to the Shay apartment today?"

"Oh yes," Moira chuckled. "She told me to check up on you there and make sure 'those Shay hoodlums' didn't feed you any junk food." _I hope they did though, _she smiled.

"They did. I had two Fat Cakes and a Peppi Cola."

"Was it good?"

"Most definitely. Anyway, while I was eating I spotted a ham in their fridge. I started to reach for it, when all of a sudden this crazy demon girl came out of nowhere and tackled me."

Moira laughed._ The boy does need to get some muscle on him._

"Hey! She took me by surprise okay? Anyway, the fact that she tackled me wasn't the weird part. The weird part was that, for some reason, I couldn't read her mind at all."

Moira, as usual, didn't seem at all surprised. "And this confused you I guess?" she said, picking up one of the cookies on the table and taking a small bite.

"Well yeah. I mean, I've never met anyone whose mind I couldn't read. Ever. Even when I was little I could read everybody's minds. My parents never did believe me about it, and at some point I just decided I'd best keep it a secret."

"Yep. Just what I suspected."

"What?"

"These cookies are awful," she said, spitting a bit of chewed up oatmeal raisin cookie into a napkin. "I'm still against anything pre-made that you can get from a grocery store, but I may just have to give in to it. I think my cooking's actually getting worse, if that's even possible."

I groaned. "That's great. Now what about _my _problem?"

"What problem?" She walked to the garbage can and tossed the remaining cookies in.

"Were you not listening to anything I just said?" I practically shouted.

"Of course I was. I just don't think you have a problem."

"Huh?"

"Freddie," she said, sitting back down. "Most of the world can't read anyone's mind, and they go on with their lives just fine. Why is it so important that you read this one girl's mind?"

She had a point. Why did I care? I wasn't really sure why. I only knew that it bothered me. "Well…" I said, but I couldn't come up with a single reason.

"Exactly. You don't have a problem. You need to realize that it is amazing that you can read anyone's mind at all. As I've told you before, everyone with powers has them for a reason, even if they don't find out that reason for a long time. Maybe you just don't need your powers with this girl. Or maybe she's just a little…different."

"Yeah," I scoffed. "If by different you mean completely insane and unnaturally violent. But I don't see why, of all people, I can't read her mind. I just feel like there has to be some bigger reason behind it."

Moira remained silent for a moment, not looking me in the eyes. "Do you think I should repaint this place? I think I'm getting a little tired of this color. Maybe I'll paint it green…"

"You know why I can't read her mind!" I suddenly realized.

"I never said that. I simply stated that I was getting tired of the wall color."

"Moira, I don't need to be psychic to tell that you were trying to change the subject. I almost heard you think it, but then you made yourself think about the stupid wall color instead so I couldn't hear you."

_Or maybe a nice blue? Then again, blue is so sad. Maybe I should meet halfway between the blue and the green and paint the apartment teal…_

"Moira, why can't I read Sam's mind?"

Moira sighed. _Because telepathy doesn't work on people who…_

"FREDDIE!" There was a loud knock on the door. Moira got up to open it and my mom charged into the room.

"Freddie, why didn't you leave me a note telling me you were coming over here? And why are you over here? Are you hurt? Did those Shays do anything bad or dangerous to you?"

"I'm fine, Mom. I just wanted to visit Moira. Sorry I forgot to leave you a note."

"Freddie! Don't tell me you forgot the rhyme!"

"There is no rhyme about leaving a note, Mom."

"Oh. I guess not." _Note to self: must come up with a rhyme for leaving a note before going anywhere. _"Well if you're done with your visit, let's go home. On the way back from work I bought a mother-son knit-your-own-hat kit that I thought we could do together." She reached into the bag hanging from her wrist and pulled out a box with a picture of a woman knitting a hat while a young girl sat near her watching with the fakest smile I'd ever seen. The box actually was labeled "mother-daughter knitting kit," but there was a big, permanent marker 'x' through the word "daughter," and that word was replaced by "son."

"Uh, sure," I said, trying not to show how much I really didn't want to knit hats with my mother. "Um, but could I just have one more minute with Moira? You can go ahead and set up the knitting supplies."

"Okay," she said, walking out the door again. "But only a minute. Let's see, it takes approximately twelve seconds to walk from this apartment to ours, so I expect you to be home in seventy-two seconds. If it takes more than ninety seconds I'm coming to find you."

"Yes Mom." She left and I turned back towards Moira.

"I can't believe you're actually friends with her," I said.

"Listen, go easy on your mother. She's been though a lot, and she doesn't want anything to happen to you. You're all she's got left."

"I know," I sighed. "I know. Now about what you were thinking earlier…"

"I think…" she said, obviously trying to concentrate on her words and not on what she was trying not to let me hear through telepathy, "it would be best for you to figure it out for yourself."

"But what if I never do figure it out?"

"You will. That much I can say. This may make no sense right now, but in time everything will fall into place. I know it will. I can see the future, remember?" She smiled.

"Yeah yeah. I remember," I smiled back slightly. "I guess I just have to wait and see what'll happen, huh?"

"That's the idea."

"Okay," I sighed. "My sixty seconds is almost up and my mom has already freaked out once since she got home. I'd better leave."

"Alright dear," said Moira. "Good luck with all this. It will all work out in time. Until then, try not to let it bother you too much, okay? Find something else to focus on. The truth always reveals itself eventually, and let me tell you, the truth can be even more remarkable than you could ever imagine."

"If you say so," I said, a little confused and a lot skeptical. I got up from my seat and headed towards the door. "Bye Moira…and thanks."

I think.

**I had some trouble writing this chapter. I don't think it was as good as the last one, but oh well. Oh, and tell me what you think of Moira. Like her? Don't like her? What can I do to make her better? **

**I don't know when the next update will be, but I can tell you now that it definitely won't be before Friday, since I'll be on my Junior class trip from tomorrow until Thursday. Besides, I've noticed I tend to update sooner when I DON'T set a deadline for myself. Weird huh? Get used to it. Most things about me are weird. **


	4. iThink Outside of the Socks

**So guess who has a chemistry exam on Wednesday and hasn't even started studying? No not Vladimir Putin! Me! But doesn't he have a cool name? Putin. Heh. Anyway, my teacher still hasn't given us our study guides, so I will take that as an excuse to write this story and not study. Yay for procrastination.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Nor do I own the universe. Yet. Mwahaha.**

"Can anyone tell me what the capital of Montevideo is?"

I raised my hand. "Um…Ms. Briggs? I think you meant to ask what country Montevideo is the capital of. You see, Montevideo is a city…"

"Mr. Benson," said the creepy teacher spitefully. _Miserable little brat. How dare he correct me?_ "If you would rather argue with your teacher than answer the question, I'd be happy to go to the office and let you argue with Principal Franklin." _Heh. That'll scare the sass out of him._

"No," I said quickly. "I mean, that won't be necessary. What I meant to say was…Uruguay?"

"Wrong. The correct answer was Montevideo."

"But you just said…"

"I'm here!" said a girl as she rushed into the classroom, her blonde hair messy and tangled.

"Who and what are you?" said Ms. Briggs coldly.

"Sam Puckett at your service." She saluted, smoothing out her wild hair and smirking to herself.

"Ah, yes, Samantha. I see you finally decided to join us."

Sam's smirk disappeared and she clenched her fists. "Okay, A, my name is Sam. Not Samantha. NOBODY calls me Samantha. So don't. And B, you people should be glad that I only missed the first week of school. I once stayed on summer break for an extra two and a half months before my mom finally noticed. And then it was only because the police had to go and get involved. Trust me Teach, you should be grateful you get to enjoy my presence at all."

Ms. Briggs scowled at Sam, forgetting all about her anger with me. "Those are some good things to know, _Sam. _Now here are some things you should know about me. A, my name, as far as you and the rest of the maggots you call classmates are concerned, is Ms. Briggs. Not Teach. Not Francine. Ms. Briggs. B, I don't like it when my students talk back to me. So don't. And C, you just earned yourself a big, fat detention." She smiled evilly as she took out a detention slip, wrote Sam's name on it, and handed it to her.

Sam took the detention, totally unfazed. "Whatevs. I like the people I meet in detention. You just saved me the trouble of having to go find all the trouble makers in the school myself." She walked to the back of the classroom and plopped down in the desk in the back, far-right corner, as far away from Ms. Briggs as she could get. "By the way," she said, smirking once again, "I don't think telling me that I just earned myself a detention qualifies as a fact about you. That's more a fact about me, don'tcha think? Gosh, I'd heard you were a bad teacher, but I didn't think you'd be _that _dumb."

And that was how Sam ended up with two detentions on her first day of middle school.

* * *

"Hi Carly," I said, smiling at the pretty brunette girl as she piled books into her backpack at the end of school.

She looked up, a little startled. _Whoa, where did he come from? I wonder how long he's been standing there watching me. _"Oh. Hi Freddie. Can I…help you?"

"Nah," I said, "I just wanted to say hi. Unless maybe you were reconsidering going out with me?"

_Oh man, not again. _"I'm really sorry Freddie. But no. Not now."

"Oh. Okay. That's fine. I was just making sure. You know…just in case maybe you had changed your mind." I leaned against her locker door in an attempt to look cool. Her locker had been open and when I leaned against the door it slammed shut suddenly and I fell to the floor.

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" she offered me her hand and helped me up.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm cool." Carly didn't respond, but I could hear what was going on in her head.

_Cool? Not really. Oh, that was mean of me! Bad Carly! No dessert for me tonight. Well…maybe just a little. Spencer said he was going to make a chocolate cheese cake… No. I thought mean thoughts, and mean people can't have dessert. He's probably wondering why I'm not talking right now. I should say something. But what? _"Uhhh…"

"Yo! Carlotta!" Sam walked around the corner and towards Carly and me.

_Phew. Saved by th_e _Sam, _Carly thought. "Hey Sam. What's up?"

"I need a ride. Apparently my mom forgot that she was going to have to pick me up from school today and decided to take a quick trip to Vegas. Oh, and can the ride be to your place? No telling how 'quick' this trip will really be. Remember the last time she took a quick trip somewhere? She was gone for two weeks."

"Sure Sam. You can stay at my house. I think you still have a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes there from last week."

"Sweet. So Carls, guess what happened with Briggs today."

"Don't tell me you already got yourself in trouble," Carly groaned.

"Hey, it's not my fault the woman is a total nub." She reached into her backpack and pulled out some beef jerky. "Besides, I wasn't that bad. I simply informed her that she was wrong about a few things. I guess she just can't take constructive criticism."

"Wait…if you got in trouble, why aren't you in detention? Ms. Briggs isn't one to just let someone off the hook like that."

"Oh, Briggasaurus gave me a detention. Two actually. I just didn't feel like…" Sam finally noticed that I was standing there and stopped mid-sentence, glaring at me.

"What's _that _doing here?"

"Sam, be nice to Freddie. He hasn't done anything to you."

"Don't try and fool me Carls. I know this is the same nub who tried to steal my ham the other day. Momma never forgets a face who tries to steal from her." She looked back at me and raised her tiny fist. "Get lost, Loser. This is _my _school. Why are you here anyway? What are you, a stalker?"

"N-no," I said, my voice shaking. "I go to school here too."

"I haven't seen you here all day."

"We were in Ms. Briggs' class together. And I saw you at lunch. You made me give you my pudding cup."

"Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."

"Hey kiddos," said Spencer as he walked into the school. "Ready to go Little Sis?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. Oh, and I told Sam she could come with us."

"I expected nothing less. Come girls, your chariot awaits," he said with a very bad French accent. They started to leave. "Hey, uh…Frankie…you need a ride?" _Was that his name? Frankie? Or maybe it was Fenley? Felix? Fabio? Steve?_

"No thanks, my mom is probably waiting for me right now. And it's Freddie by the way."

"Freddie…right…I knew that. You're sure you don't need a ride? We've got faux-leather seats and cup holders."

"I think I'm good."

"Alright then. Later Fred." He turned to leave again.

"Hey Spencer?" I called before I could stop myself.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think…do you think maybe I could come by your apartment sometime? You know, like to hang out?"

"Uh, sure Fredman. That'd be great. You could help me with my sculptures! In fact, why don't you come by today? I have a new sculpture that I could really use some help with."

"Okay, sure. I'll ask my mom. Oh and Spence, you may want to hurry up. I think Sam is trying to hotwire your car."

"What?" Spencer turned and looked out the window to see Sam fiddling with some wires in his yellow Shmolkswagen Bug. "I'd…better go see about that. See you later!" He turned and ran awkwardly to his car.

Well, it'd be interesting to see how being at the Shay's with Sam again would go. Hopefully she wouldn't try to kill me this time.

* * *

Somehow I convinced my mom that the Shays weren't as dangerous as she thought they were and she let me go over to their house that afternoon. Of course, I could only go after I had finished my homework and had gotten my bi-weekly body examination, so it was close to six-o-clock when I arrived at the Shays' front door.

This time when I knocked, Carly answered the door. "Hi Freddie. Um, is there something you need?" _Please don't ask me out again, please don't ask me out again, please don't ask me out again…_

"Your brother invited me over to help him with a sculpture."

"Oh. Well, okay then. Come in." She opened the door a little wider and let me through. "I think he's in the kitchen."

"Thanks." I noticed Sam sitting on the couch watching TV as I walked by. She didn't seem to notice me at all. I still couldn't hear her thoughts, but I could hear thoughts of mutant beavers and flaming tacos coming from somewhere in the kitchen. All I saw when I got there was what appeared to be the world's largest brown paper bag. "Spencer?" called out.

"Hey Freddo!" said Spencer, popping up from inside the bag. "Glad you could make it. I was just about to do the spray painting."

"Cool. Hey, what happened to that other sculpture you were making? The one with the law books?"

"Oh, yeah. Turns out my purple goo is pretty corrosive to paper. Who knew?"

"Ah. Well what is this new sculpture?"

"Glad you asked. You see, right now this may look like an ordinary paper bag. But soon it will be covered with wonderful colors, and I'll but a box in it. I shall call it, 'Think Outside of the Box.' You get it?"

"Um, yeah…but then won't people have to be really close to the bag to see that there's a box inside?"

Spencer's face fell. "Oh yeah. I guess I didn't think of that." He sighed. "I guess I'm just not cut out to be a great artist. Maybe I should just go back to law school."

"No, it was a good idea. But I think you need to do what your sculpture says and think outside of the box. Make something crazy and unexpected that no one has ever thought to do before."

Spencer brightened. "That's a good idea Freddo. Thanks. Hey…" a smile slowly crept onto his face. "I think I've got it. I'll be right back." Before I could respond he ran upstairs, giggling to himself the whole way while his thoughts sing-songed _I'm gonna be an artist, I'm gonna be an artist._ Judging from the idea I heard him think just a moment before, he certainly was.

Spencer came downstairs a moment later carrying a laundry basket filled with socks.

"Hey Spence, grab me a soda?" said Sam without even turning around. That was odd. Spencer hadn't really made much noise when he came back downstairs. Then again, Sam was a little closer to the stairs than I was, so she probably did hear him. But it was a little weird that she would notice him but never notice me. Maybe she just chose not to acknowledge me.

"Sure," said Spencer, setting the laundry basket down and going to the refrigerator to retrieve Sam's soda. Sam took it from his hand without even looking away from the television.

"So my idea is this," said Spencer, though I already knew what his idea was. "All my old socks sewn together into a giant sweater. We dress a cardboard box up with the sock-sweater and give it another pair of socks for feet and another pair for hands. And I shall call my masterpiece…"

"Thinking Outside of the Socks," Sam and I said in unison. We glanced over at each other briefly, both a little weirded out.

"Yep," said Spencer, oblivious as usual. "It's going to be my best creation yet! I bet you're wondering what I'm going to do when I don't have any socks left for myself."

"Not really," said Sam.

"Well, I heard about this guy who lives right here in Seattle and makes custom socks for a living. How awesome is that? Pretty awesome!"

"Not really," Sam repeated.

"Best of all, he's having a knock-your-socks-off special this week. Buy nine pairs of socks, get the tenth pair half-off!"

"Fascinating."

"Isn't it?" Spencer shouted enthusiastically. "I'm going to go call and schedule an appointment right now! I think he and I could be great friends!" He ran back upstairs again.

Then the room was silent except for the sound of two guys wrestling on the TV. I decided that I kind of wanted to sit on the couch, but I was a little afraid that Sam might hurt me if I did. "Um," I said, inching toward the couch, "can I sit here?" Sam looked over, seemingly surprised that I was still there. She gave a slight nod and resumed watching television.

As I took a seat on the couch, I couldn't help but wonder what must have been going on in Sam's mind. It must've been something amazing, I was sure of that. Even besides the whole not being about to read her mind thing, something about Sam seemed different to me. She was unlike anyone else I'd ever met, that I could say for sure. And I was pretty sure that the reason I couldn't read her mind wasn't because it wasn't important. There was something special about Sam, and I was going to find out what it was.

**I appreciate all the reviews I've gotten so far, and I'd really appreciate some more. :)**


	5. iPromise

**No more school for me this semester! W00t! *Does happy dance*.**

**Oh, and I changed the rating to K-plus. I don't think it really needs to be T, but you can tell me if you think I'm wrong. I might change it back though, depending on the future chapters.**

**Disclaimer: No soy dueño de iCarly.**

"May I help you?" The librarian yawned, her glasses slipping down her pointed nose.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me whether or not you have any books on psychic powers?"

"If you mean those 'Nighttime' saga books, they're over there in the vampire section."

"No, that's not what I meant. I meant books with real information on how psychic powers work. Like an instruction manual, or even an article about them."

She stared at me blankly. _Great_, she thought, _he believes in that nonsense. I swear, ever since people stopped reading real books and started watching TV, they've gotten loonier and loonier. Now they've got kids believing them too. _"I think we might have something for you over there," she said, pointing to a small upright shelf filled with old _American Enquirer _and _Planet _magazines. I thanked her and walked over to the shelf.

I picked up one magazine with a cover that read "Actress is Really a Man" and flipped through the pages, having no luck in finding anything about psychics. I continued flipping through the magazines, seeing lots of stories about alien presidents and pregnant celebrities, but the only thing I could find about psychic powers was a repeatedly told story about a giant squid who could predict the weather. I left the library empty handed and no better off than when I went in. The cold December air hit me suddenly as I exited the building.

I walked down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my heavy jacking, thinking. I had been trying for months to figure out why I couldn't read Sam's mind. Moira had already made it clear that she wasn't going to help me, and I'd already tried the internet with no luck. The library was my last hope, and now I was out of ideas.

It was a short walk from the library to the Bushwell, and I was back at my apartment in a matter of minutes. I fumbled to get the key out of my pocket with my gloved hands, but eventually got it and opened the door.

_Where have you been?_ I looked up to see someone sitting on the plastic covered couch, a stern expression on her usually pleasant visage.

"H-hey, Moira," I said. Busted. "I was just…"

"Leaving the apartment without telling me first?" Moira interrupted.

"Moira, I…"

"Freddie, you know that if your mom's not home you're always supposed to tell me before you go anywhere. I know you're a smart, responsible kid, but that's just it. You're a kid. You're only eleven years old. Do you know how dangerous it is for an eleven-year-old to be wondering around the city by himself? Do you have any idea how worried I was? How worried your mom would've been if she'd known? What were you thinking?"

"I…I'm sorry. I really am. But I couldn't tell you where I was going because…because…"

Moira closed her eyes and her mouth tight, trying to stay calm. _Tell me you weren't trying to solve this 'Sam mystery' of yours again. _I stared at my shoes and didn't say a word. Moira sighed. "Freddie, I told you to just leave this thing alone."

"Actually you said to figure it out myself."

"I also said to not let it bother you and to focus on something else. And you knew that. Which is why you didn't tell me you were going to…where did you go anyway?"

"The library."

Moira remained silent for only a moment, but it seemed like an hour. Finally she opened her mouth to speak. I braced myself for another scolding, but instead she just shut her mouth again and smirked. _Only you would sneak out of the house to go to the library, _she thought, her expression softening and eyes twinkling again. I went over to the couch and gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry Moira," I whispered.

"It's alright," she said. "I'm sorry I was so harsh. I'm just worried about you. It's not good for you to become so obsessed with something like this. And it's definitely not good to be leaving the house by yourself because of it." I hung my head. "But it's in the past. No need to dwell on it anymore."

I smiled. "Thanks Moira. You're the best."

"Yeah yeah, I know. So I'm guessing you didn't find anything helpful at the library?"

"No, all they had were some stupid magazines. The only thing I found about psychic powers was an article they had over and over again about a giant squid who could predict the weather."

"Phil? I loved that squid! I cried when he died."

I laughed. "You're so weird Moira."

"But I'm weird in an awesome way."

"Yeah. Yeah you are. I don't know how I'd make it without you."

"You probably wouldn't. You'd die from lack of awesome."

"Yeah…hey! Are you saying I'm not awesome?"

Moira laughed loudly. "Kidding, kidding. You're one pretty awesome kid. I just supply the outside source of awesome."

We both smiled. "Hey Moira, do you ever think it's weird that we both have powers and we found each other?"

"No, people with powers tend to have that effect. Something always draws them together. It's like the Universe's way of making sure we don't have to deal with these things alone."

"That makes sense I guess. So have you ever known any other people who could see the future?"

"Yes. I've known one other person with the power of clairvoyance in my lifetime…but I think that's a story for another day. I'd better head back to my own apartment now."

"Alright. Oh, I have a question before you leave."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to tell my mom that I left the house without permission?"

She sighed. "No, I suppose she doesn't need to know…"

"Thank you Moira!" I went to give her another hug.

"Wait! On one condition. I want you to promise me that you're going to leave this alone. I promise you that everything will work out in time. Now you have to promise me that you're going to stop this nonsense and get on with your life."

"But Moira!"

"Promise me, Freddie," she said sternly.

I sighed, defeated. "I promise."


	6. iFlip Over Christmas and a couch

**Hello people of Earth and the iCarly fandom! Are you ready for another chapter? No? Well too bad! You're getting one whether you're ready or not. Ha! I'm just a rebel like that. At least today I am. Which might explain the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: I once had a Creative Writing teacher who told me that I should never put disclaimers with anything I've written. Well, guess what Creative Writing teacher? I'm not getting sued. I do not own iCarly. Take that!**

I woke up with the sun hitting my face. I turned on the lamp beside my bed and looked at my clock. 8:39 am. _That's weird_, I thought, _my mom didn't wake me up. The only two times a year she lets me sleep in are my birthday and..._

"Merry Christmas, Freddiebear!" My mom came into my room holding a large gift-wrapped box. "I saw your light turn on and figured you must be awake." She handed me the box, which was wrapped in hypoallergenic wrapping paper with little snowmen on it. Living at the Bushwell was expensive, and with only my mom's income, we couldn't afford to get each other more than one present each. My mom tried hard though, and I didn't hold it against her.

I smiled and took the present, making sure to direct my thoughts away from my mom so I wouldn't accidentally hear her thinking about what it was and spoil the surprise. I quickly unwrapped the gift, using the method my mom taught me to open presents without getting a paper cut, and opened the cardboard box. Inside, underneath the organic packing peanuts, was a camera. But not just any camera. This thing was professional. A three-chip, hi-def camcorder with a hypercardioid condenser microphone. I'd seen this stuff at the mall a few months ago and had gone on and on about how cool it was, not actually thinking I'd ever get it. I was kind of awestruck that I actually had.

"Do you like it?" my mom asked.

"It…it's amazing. But how can we afford this?"

"Oh, that? It was nothing. It wasn't even that expensive. Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you like it." _I'll never tell him that I had to sell my antique watch to afford it. As long as he's happy, I'm happy._

I felt really bad when I heard that. I decided that as soon as I could get the money, even if it took years, I was going to replace her watch. My mom may have been crazy and overprotective, but she always put me first and never thought of herself. "Oh," I said, pretending that I didn't know anything about the watch, "here's your present." I reached beside my bed and handed her a small box wrapped in the same hypoallergenic paper as mine.

"You didn't have to get me anything Freddie," she said, accepting the package anyway.

"Sure I did. You're a great mom. You deserve a present just as much as I do. Probably more." She opened the package and pulled out the digital picture frame I had gotten her. I'd been saving up my tiny allowance all year to buy that frame for her, and had filled it with family pictures that I'd scanned onto it using the computer and scanner in the apartment's computer room. She turned it on and a picture of me, my mom, and my dad flashed on the screen.

"Oh Freddiebear," she said, tears welling in her eyes. She continued to watch as the pictures flashed by, most of just me and Mom, a few that also had Moira, and every once in a while another with my dad.

"Sorry there aren't many pictures with Dad," I said. "I couldn't find very many."

"No no, that's fine. I love it." She walked into the living room and put the picture frame on the coffee table.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Mom got up to open it and Moira came into the room.

"Merry Christmas Marissa," Moira said with a smile, handing my mom a small box and giving her a hug. "Merry Christmas Freddie." She handed me a long, skinny box. "I figured you'd need that to go with the present from your mom," she whispered to me. I opened it to reveal a carbon-fiber camera tripod stand.

"Oh Moira, this necklace is beautiful!" my mom said, pulling the turquoise necklace that Moira had made her out of the tiny box. Moira had always enjoyed making jewelry in her spare time. Mom fastened the necklace behind her head and came over to see what Moira had gotten me. "Moira, how did you know to get him a tripod stand? I didn't even tell you I was going to get him that camera."

"Oh, intuition I suppose," said Moira, keeping her cool, as usual.

"I swear Moira, sometimes I think you're psychic or something," Mom said, walking toward the table where she'd put Moira's gift from us. Moira just smiled and didn't respond to the strangely accurate remark. Mom came back with the present and handed it to Moira.

"From Freddie and me."

Instead of saying 'You didn't have to get me anything,' like most people would in her situation, she just accepted the present that she already knew she was getting and started unwrapping. Inside was a multi-colored scarf that Mom and I (mostly Mom) had knitted her and the new Susie Izats book she had been wanting.

"Thank you both. The scarf is lovely, and I'll start reading the book tonight." She smiled and gave Mom a hug, then me.

"Now, time for a nice Christmas breakfast!" Mom said. "Who wants soy milk and vegan breakfast casserole?"

Moira and I briefly glanced at each other's disgusted expressions and made a mad dash for the door.

* * *

Mom hadn't been too happy about our trying to skip out on breakfast ("Just because it's Christmas doesn't mean you can skip out on the most important meal of the day. Don't tell me you forgot the rhyme!") She ran into the hallway, found Moira and me, and made us come back inside to "enjoy a nutritious Christmas meal. Lunch had gone somewhat better. At least we got to eat turkey. Then again I think the flu shots she'd given the turkey had made it a little less than tasty.

Later that day, after all the wrapping paper and food remnants had been cleaned up, my mom let me go to the Shay's apartment to give Carly her present. I arrived in front of apartment 8C's door, smoothed out my shirt, and knocked twice.

Carly answered the door. "Hey Freddie," she said with a smile that made me feel all gooey inside.

"Hi," I said, trying not to seem nervous. "Um…these are for you." I handed her the flowers I had brought her. After buying my mom the picture frame, I hadn't had enough money left for Carly. Luckily, Moira kept window boxes full of flowers outside of every window in her apartment, and she was happy to give me a few for Carly.

"Thanks," she said, taking the flowers. "Ooh, they're tulips, my favorites!"

"I know," I said, without thinking about the fact that she didn't know I'd heard her think that a few weeks before.

"How did you know tulips were my favorites? I never told you that, did I?"

"Uh…yes…yes you did."

"Really? Because I don't remember…"

"Can I come in?" I said, trying to change the subject. She looked at me skeptically for a moment.

"Um…sure." She opened the door a little wider to let me in. The entire apartment was littered with crumpled up wrapping paper and presents like lip gloss, a PearPod, earrings, a new set of paints, a whole ham, and a rubber chicken. Sam was sprawled out across the couch, fast asleep with the ham cradled in her arms.

"Is Spencer here?" I'd hoped to see Spencer and ask him how the most recent sculpture had been going. I felt a little guilty that I'd only helped him with his 'Think Outside of the Socks' sculpture and no others after that, but my mom had forbid it after Spencer had almost melted my fingers off while helping him with that last one.

"No, he said something about going to his new friend's house to give him his present. Socks, I think his name was?"

"Oh." We stood there awkwardly for a moment, as I really had no reason to even be there anymore.

"I'm going to go put these flowers in some water," said Carly, heading for the kitchen and leaving me alone except for Sam. As I looked at Sam's sleeping form, I felt the sudden urge to know what she was dreaming about, but then remembered that I couldn't. I knew I wasn't supposed to even try to figure out why that was, but then I had a thought. Maybe if I touched her head I'd be able to see what she was thinking. I crept slowly towards the couch, and cautiously reached out my right hand. I set the hand lightly on her forehead and tried to concentrate, but before I even got the chance Sam's eyes flew open. She stared at my hand murderously before grabbing it, and with lightning speed she used my hand as a lever and flipped me over the couch. I landed on the floor with a loud thud.

"What was that?" said Carly, coming back into the living room with the flowers, now in a vase of water.

"Um…I…tripped?"

"But how did you…you know what? I don't think I want to know." She set the flowers down on the coffee table and reached out a hand to help me up.

"Yeah, probably not." I looked back at the couch to see that Sam had already fallen back asleep, and the ham she was holding was now considerably smaller. I guess flipping a person over a couch takes energy out of you. "Well, I think I'd better go now," I said, as the room was starting to become awkward again. "My mom will be worried about me."

"Okay," she said, thanks again for the flowers.

I smiled and waved goodbye as I left the apartment. I stepped into the hallway and rubbed my sore neck. Turns out that being flipped over a couch really hurts. I guess a lot of the things I'd been doing to try and solve this Sam mystery ended up not going so well for me. That's when I knew: Moira was right. I couldn't keep this up. But every time I saw Sam I was reminded of the fact that I couldn't read her mind, and no matter how many times I told myself that it shouldn't bother me, it did. I knew that there was only one way to prevent myself from wanting to find out why I couldn't read Sam's mind, and if I didn't do it I would surely go crazy. I had to avoid her at all costs.

**Well there was your little dose of Seddie Christmas there. Review please?**

**Do you know who Susie Izats is a parody of? If you do I'll give you a virtual gingerbread man.**

**Oh, also, I've written a Seddie Christmas one-shot. I know, "What? Wasn't this entire chapter about Christmas?" Yes, but the one-shot is completely different. It's already written, but I'm not putting it up until sometime tomorrow afternoon/evening. Till then, eat a candy cane, snuggle a ham, and have a great Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/whatever else you might be celebrating/have just celebrated.**


	7. i'M Everywhere, Boy

**Some of the lines at the beginning of this chapter may sound familiar to you. That's because they'****re from the iCarly pilot episode. I am not taking credit for creating those lines. All credit goes to Dan. But all the thoughts in this chapter and other parts that weren't in the episode are mine, and that's most of the chapter.**

**Oh, and this chapter takes place about two years after the last chapter.**

**Disclaimer: If I had my own show, it would be called "iDon't Own iCarly." Well, probably not, but the whole 'not owning iCarly' thing is true.**

"I told you the front doors would be locked. You've got to go around to the blue doors in the back of the – OH MY GOD."

"Morning Carly," I said cheerfully. I had been so excited when Carly had asked me if she could borrow my video camera for the talent show auditions she had to watch. I had gotten up extra early and gotten all my equipment together so it would be ready by the time she got to school.

Carly just stared at me and at all the tech equipment in the room. "See you in a sec," she said and hung up her cell phone. "Freddie!"

"What do you think of my equipment?"

_Whoa, SOMEONE went a little overboard. _"I just asked to borrow your video camera! What is all this?"

"Well, that's a three-chip hi-def camcorder with a hypercardioid condenser microphone mounted on a carbon-fiber tripod with low-drag fluid head. I also brought you juice and a bagel!" I held out the tray of food I'd prepared for her.

_Great. You know, you'd think that by now he'd have gotten over his little crush. Oh well. At least I get a bagel. Ooh! And it's toasted to perfection! _Carly didn't say anything, and just smiled at me awkwardly.

Just then the auditorium doors opened and in walked someone who I had hoped I would never have to talk to again. Her blonde curls bounced as she sauntered into the room carrying a Skybucks coffee.

"Hey! You invited the doof!" she said mockingly.

"Sam…" Carly scolded.

"Aw man! I didn't know _that _was going to be here!" This was not good. For the past two years I had done everything I could to avoid Sam Puckett at all costs. When I had finally realized the full extent of my obsession with not being able to read her mind, I had decided to focus my attention on Carly instead. She was so pretty and sweet; if I could get her to like me back, then Sam and other bullies wouldn't matter, and I could be happy. But it was tricky trying to spend time with Carly without seeing the blonde demon too, since Sam spent most of her time at her best friend's apartment. Now I only saw Carly at school and in the hall between our two apartments.

"She," Sam corrected. "I'm a 'she,' Freddie. As in _girl_."

"Barely," I muttered.

"Ooooh!" she said, wiggling her fingers in false intimidation.

I couldn't take it anymore. I had barely spoken to Sam in almost two years, and now, after having only been around her for a few seconds, I was already mad again. "You just keep your hands off my AV equipment!"

"You mean I can't play with the white balance on your superdy-duperdy camcorder?"

"Oh sure! Everybody jokes about the white balance 'til the skin tones go magenta!" Wait a minute, how did she know about white balances?

Sam cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Carly will never love you."

"That's it!" Even impressing Carly wasn't worth this. "I'm taking my stuff and I'm going home!" I started to pick up my camera.

"Please stay." Carly smiled at me and I melted.

"Okay." I set down my camera immediately.

Sam rolled her eyes while Carly just stood there looking uncomfortable. _I hate having to mess with his feelings like that. Now I feel all bad. But…that crush of his does come in handy. _

The talent auditions were pretty lame, except for this one girl who could play the trumpet while hopping on a pogo stick and Carly and Sam's joking in between auditions. I hated to admit it, but they were actually pretty funny together. Especially Sam. But that doesn't mean she didn't still infuriate me.

* * *

"_Oh Prince Freddie," Carly said, her shiny brown hair blowing softly in the breeze "you're so strong and handsome and brave. Would you please go out with me?"_

"_But of course my fair maiden," I said, kissing her hand. I smiled and looked up at her, but the beautiful brunette was gone, and had been replaced by another girl who was just as pretty. She was wearing Carly's dress, so I didn't recognize her for a moment._

"_Ew! Like I'd ever go out with you, Princess Fredweirdo," Sam said, kicking me in the shin with her lime green Converse shoe that didn't match her dress at all._

"_Sam? How did you get here?"_

_Sam leaned closer until I could feel her breath on my ear, and she whispered something I was sure I'd heard her say before. _

_"I'm everywhere, Boy."_

I was awakened from my dream by a creaking sound, and looked up to see that my bedroom door had been opened.

"Mom?" I said.

No answer.

"Who's there?"

Still no answer.

"You'd better answer me! My mom gave me pepper spray and I know how to use it!"

Suddenly I felt something strong grab hold of my ankle. I kicked and screamed but it didn't let go. Whatever it was grabbed my other ankle as well and dragged me into the living room. It opened my apartment door and light flooded into the room from the hallway. I looked up to see that the thing that had me was…Sam? What the heck was she doing? And a better question: how did she get into my apartment in the first place? The thing that dream-Sam had said to me earlier came back to me.

_"I'm everywhere, Boy." _

When had I heard her say that before?

"Quit it Sam!" I yelled as she continued to drag me across the floor and into Carly's apartment. She ignored me. "Let go of my foot! Too much friction! Let go!" She finally let me go and I struggled to my feet. "WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?" I yelled at her. Then I looked over and saw Carly. She was mad. Uh-oh.

"WHY'D YOU FILM US AT THE AUDITIONS TODAY?" Carly yelled.

"Oh," I said. "'Cause you guys were being funny."

"Well you shouldn't have put us online without our permission!" said Sam. What was she talking about?

"I didn't. I edited you guys out before I uploaded the auditions." I started toward Carly's computer.

"No, you did the opposite of that." Carly was getting pretty annoyed.

"What? There's no way I…" I trailed off as I went on Splashface and saw the video I had uploaded earlier. "Uh-oh."

"Yeah," Sam said matter-of-factly.

"Just take us off the site!"

I hated having Carly mad at me. If she was mad at me, I had even less of a chance with her, and pursuing Carly was the only thing keeping me sane and my life normal at that point. "Okay okay! Just give me a sec." I started searching the site for a delete feature while Carly proceeded to freak out. Sam seemed a little upset too, but surprisingly, she kept her cool the whole time. Finally I found a button that said 'Delete Video' and I clicked it. A message popped up. "Ha! Got it!" I said triumphantly. Carly and Sam turned to look at me. "See, it says 'At your request, this video will be removed…'"

Carly and Sam both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Finally!" Sam said. Then I saw the rest of the message, and I really didn't want to tell them what it said.

"'…tomorrow morning.'"

"Aw Freddie!" both girls wailed.

"You know how many more thousands of people will have viewed it by then?" said Carly.

"Alright, look. Before you get all freaked out, Splashface has message boards," I explained.

"So?"

"So, let's see what people are saying about the video." I clicked on the button that brought me to the message boards. "Okay, here's one. 'Carly, you and your friend Sam crack me up. Funny stuff.'"

"Great. So one kid thinks…"

"Wait. Slackerboy314 says 'Carly, you're hot.'" I turned to look at her. "It's true."

"You are," Sam agreed.

"Stop," Carly said. But even without reading her mind, I could tell she was loving it.

"Oh hey, check this one. 'Hey Carly and Sam, you chicks are hilarious. When's your next show?' And this guy says, 'You guys are way better than most of the puke here on Splashface.'"

"Wow," said Sam. "They love us."

"Yeah," said Carly. "More than puke."

* * *

"Freddie!" my mom's voiced called from outside my bedroom door. "I'm going to the supermarket to pick up some food items and ointment! I'll be back in 47 minutes! Don't go anywhere without telling Moira!"

"Yes Mom!" I called back. A few seconds later I heard the apartment door open and close. I considered taking a nap, since after Sam woke me up when she dragged me into Carly's apartment after midnight the night before, I'd had trouble going back to sleep and I was pretty tired. But I knew that I had other things to take care of. I quickly scribbled a note for my mom and headed to apartment 8A.

"Hello Freddie!" Moira said as I walked in the door. She raised a tea cup to her lips and sipped it. "Here, I made you a cup of tea too. It's decaf." Of course Moira already knew that I would want tea.

"Thanks Moira," I said, joining her at her kitchen table and taking the cup of tea she'd prepared for me. I took a sip and breathed in the good smell.

"I haven't seen you around here in a while. What's up?"

"Well, you see…wait, did you just say what's up?"

"What? Just because I'm in my sixties doesn't mean I can't use cool lingo. Come on Freddie, has it really been that long since you came to visit me?"

"I guess it has been a few months. Sorry about that. I've kind of been busy with school and stuff."

"And stuff? What kind of stuff?"

"Well, you know how I used to be kind of obsessed with the whole 'this girl can't read my mind' thing?"

"Kind of?" Moira chuckled. I glared at her. "I mean…yes, I remember. Don't tell me you're back on that."

"No, don't worry. I've been good. You see, for the last couple years I've been trying to take my mind off it and focus on getting Carly Shay to like me."

"The brunette girl in the apartment across the hall from you? Isn't she kind of out of your league?"

"Moira!"

"Kidding, kidding. Any girl would be lucky to date you. Gosh, I can't have any fun."

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, Carly only likes me as a friend, but I've been trying to change her mind for a while now. Thing is, Carly is best friends with Sam Puckett, who's over at the Shay's apartment all the time."

"Sam. The girl who's mind you can't read?"

"Exactly."

"Mmhmm," she took another sip of tea.

"So I've had to be really careful to avoid Sam while at the same time trying to woo Carly."

Moira snickered. "Woo."

"Shush."

"Yes sir. So why do you need to avoid Sam?"

I stared at her in disbelief. "You're the one who told me to stop obsessing over her!"

"Well that doesn't mean you should avoid her. Just hang out with her without becoming obsessed."

"But that's just it! Every time I see her, I can't help but think about how I can't read her mind. I don't know why, but it makes me mad. And her constant bullying and aggressiveness doesn't help the situation either."

"Ah, I see. Run away from your problems. That's always a nice solution."

Now I was really confused. What did she want from me? "But…but I…but you…blah!"

"Uh-huh. I'm sure random babbling will also help."

"Well what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, as for Carly, I think you should keep hanging out with her. Even if she doesn't want to go out with you, she seems like a nice girl. You two could probably become good friends. As for Sam, I don't see any reason why you can't be around her too. Just try to control your temper. It'll be difficult at first, but I think you'll find that, after a while, it'll become easier than you think. And maybe you two could be friends too."

"Me and Sam? Friends? I don't think so."

"It could happen. Why don't you start going over to the Shay's again? Try and be friends with the girls. Maybe you could even hang out with that wacky older brother. I think you could use good friends like that in your life. You always seem so lonely."

"I have you as a friend."

"Me? Oh, I'm just an old woman. You should have friends your own age."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. Now why don't you go over to the Shay's and have some fun? I'll tell your mother I told you to go there."

"Okay," I said, getting up and heading for the door. "Thanks Moira."

"Anytime."

I walked back to where the hallway ended and knocked on 8C's front door.

"Carly! Get the door!" I heard.

"I can't! I'm in the shower!"

"Well I'm trying to make a robot out of soda bottles!"

"Just get the door!"

"Ugh! Fine!"

A few moments later, Spencer opened the door.

"Oh, hey Freddo. 'Sup?" _Heh, sup. It sounds like supper. I wonder what we're having for supper. Wait, I'm the adult! We can have whatever I want for supper! Maybe I'll make cotton candy…_

"Nothing much. Um, I was just wondering if maybe I could, you know, hang out here for a while? It's pretty boring over at my place."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I was just working on a sculpture. Wanna help?"

"Nah, Mom won't let me help you with your sculptures anymore, remember?"

"Oh, right. The finger melting incident."

"Yeah." We stood there in awkward silence for a moment.

"So…how 'bout them Cobras?"

"My mom doesn't let me watch football."

"Of course she doesn't."

"Hey," said Carly, coming down the stairs wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe and matching slippers while drying her hair with a towel. "What are you doing here Freddie?"

"Just came to hang out."

"His mother is boring," Spencer added.

"Thank you Spencer," I said.

"No prob." I guess he didn't catch the sarcasm. He headed towards the kitchen where he grabbed a bag full of sugar and some pink food dye.

"So," I said. "Did the video get taken down successfully?"

"Yeah, I checked around nine this morning and it was gone. I just hope Ms. Briggs didn't see it before it got taken down."

"Me too. Hey, I'm really sorry about that."

"It's alright. I'm sure everything will be fine." _I really hope everything will be fine._

"Yeah, probably so. So, um…want to watch a movie?"

"Does your mom let you watch movies?"

I scoffed. "Yes!"

"That aren't related to dental hygiene or stranger danger?"

I looked at my shoes. "No."

Carly smiled. "Well I guess she doesn't have to know. Wanna watch _The Kung-Fu Kid_?"

"What's that?"

She stared at me. "You really need to get out more often."

* * *

We had just gotten to the part of the movie where Mr. Shmiyagi was teaching the kid how to wax his car, when the door opened and Sam walked in.

"What's the dweeb doing here?" she said, heading straight for the fridge.

"Freddie and I are watching _The Kung-Fu Kid. _Want to join us?"

"And risk getting some sort of nerd disease?" She took a big bite out of the turkey leg she'd found in the refrigerator. "No thanks."

For a while Sam just stood in the kitchen, eating her turkey and watching the movie from a distance, but I guess she got tired of standing, because after about ten minutes she came over to the couch and sat down next to me. I would've thought for sure that she'd make me move so she could sit next to Carly, but she just sat down quietly without even glancing in my direction.

"Hey guys!" Spencer seemed to pop out of nowhere.

"Shhh!" we all said.

"Oh, sorry!"

"SHHH!"

"Sorry," he said, whispering this time. "You guys want some dinner? I made cotton candy."

"Cotton candy?" Sam said, shooting up. "Gimme!"

"Sam!" Carly whisper-shouted, pulling Sam back down by her shirttail. "You can't have cotton candy for dinner! And neither can you Spencer!"

"Aw man, but can't I just…wait, I'm the grown up! You can't tell me what to do."

"Spencer," Carly warned.

"Fine, I won't eat the cotton candy for dinner."

"Good. I'm going to go make some turkey sandwiches. You can have your cotton candy for dessert." She got up and got what was left of the turkey out of the refrigerator. "Where did you get that cotton candy from anyway?"

"I made it," Spencer said proudly.

"How'd you make it? We don't have a cotton candy machine."

Spencer stared at the bag of cotton candy in his arms for a moment before running to his room with it. "I'll never tell!" he yelled.

* * *

"Well, I'd better get back home," I said as the movie ended. I looked to my right to see Sam asleep on the arm of the couch with her feet in my lap. On my right, Carly was nearly asleep herself. "It's after seven. Mom will freak if I'm not home soon."

"Okay," Carly said sleepily. "Night Freddie."

"Good night," I said, moving Sam's feet off my lap, getting up, and heading for the door.

"Oh, and Freddie?" Carly said.

"Yeah?"

"You're welcome to come over here and hang out anytime."

I smiled. "I'd like that."

Maybe I didn't have to get Carly to like me to be happy. Maybe just having her as a friend was enough.

**I hope you liked this chapter, and that skipping ahead a few years didn't mess the story up. I'm going to have to do a little more skipping ahead in future chapters, just so you know. Let me know what you think. If skipping ahead in time is so terrible that it makes you want to die or something, let me know, and I'll try my best to change it.**

**Oh, and I know there is a bit of Creddie-type stuff right now. Don't worry friends; this is definitely NOT a Creddie story, other than some Creddie friendship. Just be patient with me, if you will. The Seddie will come.**


	8. iHelp Start a Webshow

**Hello! I was going to update on New Years, but then I got lazy and didn't do it. But guess what? I can now officially say that I've read a Harry Potter book all the way through. W00t! I don't really know why I never got around to reading those books before, but I've finally read the first one, and I'm happy to say that Harry just got himself one new fan. Anyway, Happy (late) New Years, and more importantly, HAPPY SEDDIE DAY! (Or Kissiversary, whichever you'd like to call it).**

**Again, little bit of iPilot dialogue in here, but mostly my own stuff. Credit for the dialogue that was used in the show goes to Dan.**

**Disclaimer: Me: I own iCarly.  
Abraham Lincoln: She's lying.  
Me: Abe Lincoln? Aren't you supposed to be dead?  
Lincoln: Aren't you supposed to be telling these nice people a story about iCarly?  
Me: Touché. Okay, here's the next chap…  
Lincoln: Wait! Aren't you forgetting something?  
Me: Oh yeah. I lied. I don't own iCarly.  
Lincoln: Good girl. Remember, always tell the truth! *Disappears in magical puff of smoke*.  
Me: *Grumbles under breath* Damn you Lincoln.**

"Okay, we have a few minutes left before class ends. I think I'll go ahead and assign you guys this week's essay." The whole class groaned in protest. "Ah, come on guys! It'll be fun!" Mr. Henning insisted. "Besides, if I assign it today, that'll give you a whole extra day to work on it before it's due on Friday! Now, your essay topic is the digestive system of the African dung beetle…yes? Freddie?"

"Um, Mr. Henning," I said, lowering my hand, "isn't that kind of a Biology topic?"

"Your point?"

"Well, it's just, this is supposed to be an Earth science class…and we were learning about volcanoes…"

"I'm in charge!" Mr. Henning whined. Just then the bell rang, and we were finally free after an excruciatingly long Monday.

"Due this Friday! Five hundred words!" Everyone ignored our teacher as we hurried to pack up our bags and get out of the school. "Try not to plagiarize!"

As I was walking down the hall, I spotted Sam and Carly chatting by their lockers. Carly was packing her backpack, while Sam was slouching against her locker, clutching a can of spray cheese in her hand. I decided to take a little detour to talk to them.

"Hola chicas," I said. They both gave me weird looks.

"What was that," Sam said, "some sort of new dork language?"

"Spanish, Sam," Carly said. "You know, that class where you always like to take your after-lunch nap?"

"Well how do you expect me to know anything about a language I've never been awake to hear?"

Carly just sighed. "So what's up Freddie?"

"Not much. I was just wondering…"

"If you're a huge dork?" Sam offered. "I'll give you a hint. Yes."

"You know what Sam?"

"What Benson? You think you can intimidate me? Ha, think again."

"Ooh, intimidate. Big word there, Sam. I didn't know your brain could even think about words that big." I didn't even know where that came from. It wasn't like me to get angry or insult people, but Sam irked me in a way no one else could.

"I _think_ you'd better shut your trap before I shut if for you!"

"Make me!"

"I will!" She started towards me, a murderous gleam in her icy blue eyes.

"Guys! Stop!" Carly took us by the shoulders and pushed us apart. _Gosh, I don't know if I can keep this up much longer! How can two people hate each other so much? _"Freddie, calm down." Sam gave me a satisfied smirk and stuck out her tongue. "Sam, stop insulting Freddie." I stuck my tongue out back. "Now, what were you saying, Freddie?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you guys heard anything from Ms. Briggs about the auditions. Did she see the video before it was deleted?"

"Yup. Way to go Dorkface."

"Shush, Sam," Carly said to her rather obnoxious friend. She turned back to me. "Yeah, she saw it. She wasn't too happy."

"Aw man," I said. "I'm really sorry. I guess I screwed up big time."

"Yes, yes you did."

"Sam! It's alright. We're not going to be punished for it or anything. Well, our grades on our next exams might suffer a little, but at least we don't have detention."

"Spee fuh yuhsef," said Sam through a mouthful of spray cheese.

"Okay, we didn't get detention for _that_. Sam has detention for…well…I don't think I want to know what Sam has detention for." I nodded in understanding. Sam almost always had detention for something. "The bad part was that when we gave her the list this morning – the one with the names of the kids we thought should be in the talent show – she said that she wasn't going to use any of them."

"What? Why not?"

"Crazy Boob said they aren't real talents or some chizz like that," Sam answered lazily as she shook the can of spray cheese. Apparently she decided it was empty, because she just shrugged her shoulders and dropped the can on the floor.

I nodded again. "Well I've got to go. If I miss the bus and get home too late my mom will probably have a panic attack or something."

"Okay," Carly said, closing her locker. "Later Freddie."

"See ya Fredhead."

* * *

I got off the bus and walked into my apartment to see my mom vacuuming furiously. With two vacuums. At the same time. I tried to read her thoughts to find out what had happened this time. As usual when she was in one of her moods, her thoughts were broken and dysfunctional.

_People should know that cars aren't safe…foolhardy…need to be more careful…stupid news anchor didn't look like he cared at all…_

It took me a while, but I finally figured out that she must have heard something about a car crash on the news. I wasn't surprised; this had happened before. Sometimes it was hearing something on the news, or maybe just seeing a friend driving without a seatbelt, but the result was always the same. Mom would get lost in a whirlwind of bad memories, and it seemed the only remedy was to go crazy and clean everything in the apartment. I mean, she was usually kind of crazy about that stuff anyway, but when she was in one of her moods, there was no stopping her. One time she was so upset that she didn't stop cleaning for two days straight.

The first time I'd ever seen this happen, I'd been afraid. I thought my mom was permanently broken. I tried everything I could to get through to her, but when she was like this it was like I wasn't even there, at least for a little while. Even Moira couldn't get through to her, and Moira was the one who had comforted her so much after Dad's accident.

I decided that it was probably a good time to go over to Carly's. Of course I was worried about my mom, but over the years I'd learned that when she was in one of her moods it was best to just leave her alone for a while and let her clean. It seemed to be the only thing that made her feel better. Luckily she didn't get like this too often anymore, and it never lasted as long as it used to. Still, it was best to leave the apartment for a little while.

I walked across the hall and knocked on apartment 8C's door. Carly opened it within seconds, barely looking at me as she did so, and continued talking to Sam.

"She is what's wrong with the world," said Carly, obviously ranting about something. _Stupid…always telling us what to do…hate her… _Looked like Carly was in a bad mood too.

"Who's what's wrong with the world?" I said.

"Ms. Briggs."

"Oh. Well hey, at least she got that brown lump taken off of her nose," I offered.

Carly ignored me and continued to rant. "I just hate it when adults like her get to control what kids can do and see. It ticks me off." She power-walked toward the refrigerator, anger visible on her every feature.

"Why do they put a bone right in the middle of the ham?" said Sam, obviously more interested in her snack than in Carly's ranting. It was weird how Sam and I had been so mad at each other earlier, and now it was as if nothing ever happened. That was one of the main differences between Carly and Sam. Carly could hold a grudge forever and would rant for hours, but didn't do it very often. Sam would get mad at the drop of a hat, but then forget about it within minutes. Of course, that wasn't the only thing that made them different. There were lots of other things that just didn't seem like they could go together. Carly was a good girl, Sam was bad. Carly was weak, Sam was tough. Carly was prissy, Sam was a tom boy. I had to wonder again how the two girls could possibly be friends. They were like night and day.

"Hey," said Carly, taking a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge and turning around with a sly smile. I could tell she was up to something, but her thoughts were racing so fast I couldn't tell what it was. "Remember all that stuff those kids wrote about us on the message boards?"

"Yeah?"

"Things like 'You guys should upload more videos,' and 'When's your next show?' and 'We want more'? Let's give them more."

"More?" Carly's thoughts were still going so fast I was having trouble seeing what she was getting at.

"Okay, what are we talking about here?" Apparently Sam had no qualms with showing that she was confused. A lot of people would never have the guts to do something like that so easily. I certainly didn't. It was weird, but that kind of gave me a new respect for her. Of course, I would never let her know that.

"Doing a webshow!" Carly explained. "Online. Every week."

"Why?" said Sam.

"Because it can be whatever we want it to be! No adults to say 'you can do this' and 'you can't do that.' We can do whatever we want. Say whatever we want!"

"Would it mean I'd have to do, like, work and stuff?" said Sam, a look of disgust on her face.

"Well if you're gonna do a show you've got to prepare for it."

"Neh, then make it your show. You do the work; I'll just show up and be your amusing little sidekick."

"Wait," I said, "what's the show going to be about?"

"Anything. Something different every week. But for the first show: kid's with bizarro talents."

"Ah, clever!" said Sam. "Ms. Briggs says 'no no no;' we say 'yeah yeah yeah.'" Sam seemed to be in a good mood. She didn't even seem to mind my presence. I wondered how far I could push that…

"Hey," I said, reaching for a piece of Sam's ham, hoping her good mood would last. I think she noticed, but surprisingly, she didn't object. "Why don't you guys call your show 'iCarly'? You know, i: internet, Carly: you."

"I like it," said Sam.

"iCarly's cool."

"And um…you're going to need a technical producer, right? To set up the lights, audio, work the camera…"

"Aw," said Sam, "he wants to be our geek." Carly rolled her eyes.

"You got a big mouth lady!" I shouted.

"Is that a new shirt? I don't like it."

"I don't have to take that!"

"Yeah you do."

And just like that we were at it again, arguing like five-year-olds. So much for getting along.

* * *

The first iCarly webcast was a hit. People loved us, and it wasn't difficult to decide we wanted to continue with the show. Every Friday at eight, Carly and Sam would get up in front of the camera and act like maniacs, not caring that people all over the internet might think they were crazy. And I was always right there, standing behind the camera, flipping switches and adjusting audio, and having just as good a time as the shows stars.

Over the course of the show, Sam and I got to a point of mutual acceptance. We still didn't like each other, but we became much more tolerant of each other. I eventually learned to control my temper, and Sam…well Sam didn't change a bit. But at least we were getting along…usually. Of course, we still had our spats, but they gradually became a little less frequent and little more civil.

Meanwhile, iCarly was becoming more and more popular. We were getting more viewers every week, and skyrocketing into internet stardom. We became known as the iCarly trio. We were a team; inseparable, however different we might be. A good girl, a bully, and a tech geek. Somehow, we just fit. I guess I was even friends with Sam, kind of, after a while. And of course we were united by our mutual best friend and unofficial leader of the trio, Carly. My life was happy and I didn't even feel like I needed to know why I couldn't read Sam's mind. I didn't even really need to go out with Carly. Everything was going great.

But then I made one stupid mistake, and in an instant, everything changed.

**Okay, so some of you have been asking for more mind reading parts. I'm sorry really there weren't a whole lot in this chapter. I tried, but I just couldn't find many good places to fit them in, and I don't want to just stick in mind reading willy-nilly (heh, willy-nilly). I think there will probably be a few chapters in the future where it will be easier to put in more mind reading and have it look okay, but I don't know that for sure. I will try my best. I appreciate everyone's feedback and I hope that you guys will continue to tell me what you like, don't like, what should be changed, etc., and I will try my best to do what you guys want. You guys are truly awesome, and I'd have no reason to be writing fanfictions without you.**

**Also, school starts back for me tomorrow, so I don't know how often I'm going to be able to update. I promise that I will try to update whenever I can and that I won't abandon this story.**

**Okay, I need to stop rambling now. Once again, happy Seddie Day!**

**Hasta Luego.**


	9. iKiss

**Sorry it took me so long guys. It was kind of a busy weekend, and as you can see, kind of a long chapter. But I really wanted to get it up on Sunday (okay, so technically it's Monday now, but just barely. And it's probably still Saturday for some of you.). I didn't have time to check over it as much as I wanted, so let me know about any mistakes you find please!**

**And I think ALL Seddie fans will know what episode some of this dialogue came from. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Didn't we cover this already? Was Abe Lincoln not enough for you to believe me? Alright, for those of you who are still skeptical: I don't own iCarly.**

_That's it, _I thought. _My life is over. Done. Finished. I'm never going to live this down. I'll have to go into hiding forever. I'll have to change my name and move to Mexico. Who am I kidding? I can't afford to move to Mexico. I'll just have to become a hobo. Yeah, that could work. I bet if I grew a beard no one would recognize me…_

Maybe I should back up a little.

It all started the other day when I was walking down the hall after school. It had been the first day back at school after winter break, and I was in a pretty good mood. I'd aced my biology exam, been elected as vice president of the AV club, and had gotten to eat fish sticks for lunch. It had been a good day.

At least, until right then it had been good. As soon as I got near my locker, I knew something was wrong. Something fishy was going on…literally. I slowly walked forward, silently praying that the locker next to mine was the one that the unfortunate smell was coming from. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the metal door. Immediately, something big and smelly fell onto the floor. I backed up quickly enough to save myself from the falling fish, but my backpack, which I'd unfortunately left sitting on the floor in front of me, wasn't so lucky. The deceased tuna fell onto the bag, getting slimy fish juice everywhere.

"Aw man!" I said, bending down to get the dead fish off my bag. Then I realized how gross it was and kicked it out of the way instead. It rolled over with a messy _flop_, revealing a yellow note on its side.

"_Happy Birthday Fredwardo!"_ read the messy writing on the note. _"I found this dead fish in the dumpster behind the school and immediately thought of you! Enjoy!" _I should have known.

Just then, someone walked by, her blue eyes shining with mischief as she snickered.

"Sam!" I yelled.

"'Sup Fredfish?" she chuckled. "I see you got your present."

I glared at her. "Why would you put a dead fish in my locker?"

"'Cause I was bored. Don't you like it? I picked it out special."

"Har har."

"Well," she said, putting on a tone of fake offense, "_somebody _is a grumpy birthday boy." She smirked and crossed her arms across her chest.

"It's NOT my birthday!"

"I know. I just didn't feel like keeping the fish at my house until March. Those things start to stink after a while."

"Okay, first of all," I said, pointing at the fish, which still lay on the floor, "it already stinks. Second of all, my birthday is in FEBRUARY. Not March. Not January. FEBRUARY."

"Really? Well that's a stupid month to be born in."

I groaned in frustration. Over the years, I had been getting along with Sam a little bit better, but just in the last few days we've been really bugging each other again. I was really getting fed up. "Just take your stupid fish and leave me alone!" I said.

"Fine! I don't want your extreme dorkatude rubbing off on little Freddie junior anyway."

"Freddie junior?"

"That's her name!" she said, gently picking the fish up off the floor and walking away.

"Her?" I said, though Sam was already gone. Figures that Sam would name her dead female fish after me.

I reached into the back of my locker for the emergency disinfecting hand wipes my mom made me keep in there. Hopefully they would help to get the slimy fish juice off of my backpack. I retrieved the wipes, but then something else fell out of my locker. A pair of silver handcuffs that the school's magic freak, Magic Malika, had given me as a souvenir when she used them for a magic trick on me. For the life of me I hadn't been able to figure out how they worked. They seemed like an ordinary pair of handcuffs, and the only way I could get them open was with a key. They were pretty sturdy too, so breaking them wasn't really a possibility. If I used them on a person, they'd probably never be able to get out unless I unlocked them.

I felt a smile slowly spread across my face. I had an idea.

* * *

I crept up to the door of room 215 and peeped through the tiny window. The kids in the detention room were busy playing cards and destroying school property, so I guessed that there probably wasn't a teacher in the room. My eyes kept searching until I found her. Sam was asleep, slouched over in a desk near the back of the class room, her hand clutching a five dollar bill. Next to her was a very nervous-looking Gibby, who was trying to retrieve the money without waking Sam. She'd probably stolen it from him before her nap.

Oh, this was too perfect.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and sneaked into the room. A few people gave me funny looks, but most of them didn't even notice me. I made my way to the back of the classroom, where Gibby was still trying to retrieve his five dollar bill from Sam's fist.

"Gibby!" I whisper-shouted.

"Ahhh!" Gibby screamed as he jumped at my voice. It was a good thing Sam was a heavy sleeper. Gibby looked around frantically for several seconds before he finally caught sight of me crouching next to his desk on the side furthest away from Sam.

"Shh…" I said putting a finger to my lips. "It's okay Gib, it's just me."

"Oh, okay. Wait, who's 'me'?"

"Freddie Benson!" I whispered harshly. "Who did you think it was?"

"Well I thought it was you, but I just wanted to make sure. You never know. You could've been Sam in disguise."

"Gib, you know that Sam is napping on the desk right next to you, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, if Sam's asleep over there, how can she be awake over here at the same time?"

Gibby's face dropped. "I didn't think it through."

I rolled my eyes. "Look, why are you here?"

"That's a good question. Why are any of us here? Personally, I think we were put here to make friends with the aliens on Mars…"

I sighed. "I meant, why are you in detention?"

"Oh, that. Sam stole my five dollar bill earlier, and when I tried to take it back she pulled the fire alarm and told Ms. Briggs that I did it. She wasn't very happy with me."

"And are you trying to get your money back?"

"Yeah, but I'm afraid to. I mean, what if Sam wakes up? She'll kill me."

"But if you don't do anything, she'll just keep doing this. You can't keep letting her walk over you Gib. Take a stand."

"But you never stand up to her."

"Sure I do."

"Really? And she still treats you like that? Boy Freddie, you must be really bad at standing up for yourself."

"Not the point! Besides, I'm still alive, aren't I? If I can stand up to Sam Puckett and live to tell the tale, so can you. Come on Gibby! Be a man!"

"I think I'd rather be alive…"

"Look, I'll be right here the whole time in case something goes wrong."

"Can I have a different body guard? Maybe one with more muscle?"

"Just take the money! Be a man!"

"I am a man!"

"Then prove it! Take the money!"

"Okay! I'll do it!"

"Yeah! Now who's the man?"

"I'm the man!"

"You're the man!"

Gibby seemed to be exuding confidence. _I'm the man, _his thought's kept repeating. _I'm the man. _With his chubby chest puffed out, he turned back toward Sam. As soon as he saw her, his chest deflated and he turned pale.

"Freddie?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"The man is scared."

I sighed. "Okay, how about I count to three, and then you take the money. Okay?"

"I guess…"

"Good. One, t…"

"Wait. Do I take the money on three, or do I wait until after you've said three and then take the money?"

"On three Gib."

"Oh, okay."

"Ready now?"

"Can I have a snack first?"

"No! Now are you ready or not?"

"I guess I'm ready…"

"Great. Now on three. One…two…THREE!" The moment I said three, Gibby reached his hand toward Sam's, making them close enough for me to pull out my handcuffs and lock their wrists together.

"I got it!" yelled Gibby, who had just retrieved his money but hadn't yet noticed the cuff around his wrist. Sam's eyes flew open.

At that moment, I knew that I was a dead man.

* * *

_All this over one stupid mistake_, I thought as I ran toward the Bushwell Plaza, a very angry Sam running not far behind me. When she'd woken up and realized what I'd done, she hadn't hesitated to ditch the rest of detention to kill me. She probably would've caught me immediately, had she not been dragging a whimpering Gibby along with her.

"NO RUNNING IN MY LOBBY YOU LITTLE URCHIN!" shouted Lewbert as I ran as fast as I could into the Bushwell. I pressed the elevator button and was relieved when it opened almost immediately. "HEY! I SAID NO RUNNING! COME BACK HERE! AAGGGHHHH!"

I figured that my mom wouldn't be too happy if Sam came running into our apartment trying to kill me, and she probably wouldn't ever let me hang out with Carly and Sam ever again. And since Moira was on vacation in Florida, I decided to go hide in the Shays' apartment. I opened the door, but decided not to go in just yet. I figured that Sam probably wouldn't have been able to get up here before me, seeing as how I was using the elevator and she was too lazy to use the stairs, but you can never be too careful. Luckily, the only person I saw in the apartment was Carly.

"Hey Carly," I said.

"Oh, hey," she said, pausing the video of the talking foot that she had been watching. _Heh, talking feet are so funny, _she thought. _Maybe we should do an iCarly skit with talking body parts…_

"Is Sam here?"

"No, why?"

I stepped into the apartment and locked the door behind me with the chain lock. "'Cause I pulled a prank on her."

"YOU PULLED A PRANK ON SAM?" Carly yelled. _That's it. Freddie's lost it._

"Uh huh."

"What, are you tired of living? Why would you mess with Sam?"

"'Cause she put a dead fish in my locker! Smell this!" I held up my backpack which I had, unfortunately, been unable to get the fishy odor out of.

"No, gross! I don't want to smell your fishy backpack! What prank did you play on Sam?"

Just then, the front door opened violently. "OPEN THE DOOR!" yelled Sam through the opening in the door. It was a good thing the chain lock prevented her from opening the door all the way.

"Call the police," I said, hiding behind Carly.

"OPEN THIS DOOR!"

"Leave me alone Sam! We're even!"

Sam yelled as she ripped the chain lock off the door. She stomped into the room, dragging a terrified Gibby behind her. "COME HERE BENSON!"

"You handcuffed her to Gibby?" Carly said in disbelief. _Yep. He's definitely gone completely and totally insane._

"She put a dead fish in my locker!"

"Gibby's way worse than a dead fish!"

"My mom thinks I'm AWESOME!" Gibby defended.

"GIVE ME THE KEY!" Sam demanded.

"Give her the key," Carly said.

"Only if she promises—"

"AAAAHHHHHHH!" I was cut off by Sam's battle cry as she charged at me. I tried to run, but it didn't take her long to catch up with me and pin me to the kitchen table.

"Ow, my arm!" I complained.

"WHERE'S THE KEY?"

"In my front pants pocket, left side!"

"Get the key out of his pocket," she told Carly.

"Okay," said Carly. She reached to get the key, then backed up suddenly. "Ew, no."

"Just let me up and I'll give you the key," I choked.

"PLEASE!" shouted Gibby. _I'm gonna die, _he thought. _I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die…_

Sam reluctantly let me go and I got the key. "Now unlock me!" she demanded.

I did as she said. As soon as they were free, Gibby ran out the door screaming. I had to say, I felt bad about doing that to him.

"Like Gibby's therapist didn't have enough to deal with!" Carly shouted, her voice full of anger.

As mad as Carly looked, Sam looked madder. She grabbed my collar violently, anger flashing in her icy stare.

"Come on," I tried to reason. "You put a dead fish in my locker; I handcuffed you to Gibby. We're even!"

"Yay! Who wants lemonade?" Carly said. _Please let that work. Please let them stop fighting._

"I don't play to get even," said Sam, pulling me so close that I could smell fish sticks on her breath. "Momma plays to win." She let me go with a careless shove. "I'm gonna get you," she said, walking away. "Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I'm gonna get you."

"I'm not scared."

She turned back to face me. "Really?" she said skeptically. And with that she turned and left.

If only I'd known just how bad she would get me, I would've left for Mexico right then and there.

* * *

I was sitting on the fire escape, where I'd been spending most of my time for the last week, deep in thought as I watched the sun go down and the Seattle sky go from blue to red to black. Usually I loved sunsets, but I hadn't been finding too much enjoyment in much of anything lately.

You see, Sam's revenge had been worse than I ever could've imagined. Apparently, she'd overheard this little conversation Carly and I were having the other day, and well…the results weren't good.

"_Freddie's never kissed a girl_," she'd said into the camera with a triumphant smirk._ "Never, not once. I heard him say so myself, and Carly's a witness." _And then she just left. She looked so proud of herself. Proud that she'd ruined my life.

And that brings us back to my thoughts of changing my name and becoming a hobo. Needless to say, the other kids at school weren't very sympathetic. They had a great time teasing me about it for the two minutes that I actually stayed at school the first day after it happened. I wasn't even going to school anymore. I spent as much time as possible alone, usually on the fire escape listening to my PearPod and staring into the sky. Mom was frantic with worry, which made me feel kind of bad, but I couldn't handle going out in public anymore.

They sun had finally disappeared completely, leaving the sky a deep bluish-black with barely enough light to see. I glanced at my watch. Seven-fifty. iCarly would start in ten minutes. I definitely didn't want to put myself on the internet again after what happened, but it couldn't hurt to watch it, right?

I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the site. A few minutes later, the show started. At first Sam and Carly acted like it was just any other normal show. I was surprised that they could run the show by themselves now. Maybe they didn't need me anymore.

I was a little hurt that they didn't even seem to care that I was gone. I tried to tell myself that they had to act like that for the sake of the viewers, but it still hurt. I caught a few of Carly's thoughts that pointed to her still being a little mad at Sam about what had happened, but for the most part she seemed okay. Sam seemed totally unaffected, at least at first. But then she did something that I never expected.

"Before we start the meatball war…I want to say something." Sam stopped the music and stepped toward the camera. "On the last iCarly, I told you guys that Freddie never kissed anyone. And that was really personal, and I shouldn't have said it on the show." Was this really Sam? Apologizing? "And for all you people out there who've been teasing Freddie about it, lay off. Cause I bet a whole lot of you haven't kissed anyone either. Including me."

Whoa.

"Yeah, that's right. I've never kissed anyone. So if you want to tease someone about it, tease me." I couldn't believe this. Sam was doing something nice? For me? And in front of the whole internet too. She hadn't even threatened anyone. "Which is a bad idea unless you live near a hospital!" Ah, that's more like her.

Carly stopped the show temporarily and put up a picture of a guy with shrimp up his nose. When the show came back on, Sam was gone.

* * *

_Did I tell you I knew your name? But it seems that I've lost it. Did I tell you it's my own game? This is not your problem…_

I was still sitting outside on the fire escape, listening to my PearPod and to the sound of the traffic below, when there was a light knock on the window. I turned my head to see who it was, though because I couldn't hear anyone's thoughts, I already knew. I signaled for her to come out on the fire escape with me.

"What's up?" Sam said, climbing through the window and sitting on the ledge.

"Nothing," I said. I turned down the volume on the music so we could talk.

"Meatball?" Sam offered.

I had to chuckle a little on the inside. That was probably the closest thing to a peace offering that one could expect from Sam Puckett. "No thanks," I said. She shrugged and threw the meatball into the night. "That was really brave, what you said."

"You heard?"

I held up my laptop, smirking at her. "You didn't think I'd miss iCarly?" To my surprise, she smiled. Not a smirk. Not a mischievous grin. A real smile. I hated to admit it, but she was really pretty when she smiled.

Then the smile faded, and her face regained its serious composure. "I'm sorry," she said. "About telling people you never kissed anyone…and about putting blue cheese dressing in your shampoo bottle…and about sending your cell phone to Cambodia. Everything. Okay?"

"So this means you're not going to mess with me anymore?"

"No, I'm still gonna mess with you. I'm just going to apologize every few years so I can start fresh again." I couldn't say I was surprised.

"Good," I said.

"Good?"

"Yeah, it'd be too weird if you didn't make my life miserable all the time. But you know, maybe you could pull back just a little…"

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, I didn't either."

"It's so dumb," she said after a moment.

Did she mean me? I thought we were actually getting along for once. "What do you mean?"

"You know, how people get all freaked out over their first kiss. It's stupid."

"So you weren't lying? You really never kissed anyone?"

"Nope." she sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could just get it out of the way."

"I know. Me too."

"Right? You know, just so I can stop worrying about it."

"Yeah." Just then a thought occurred to me. Then I realized how ridiculous it was and chuckled.

"What?" said Sam.

"Nothing…"

"Tell me."

"Nah, it's dumb…"

"Say it!"

"Okay…I was just going to say…"

"That _we _should kiss?"

I gulped. "You're going to break my arm now, right?"

She shook her head. "No."

No? Sam Puckett, the violent, angry, aggressive bully, wasn't going to get mad over that? If I thought Sam was hard to figure out before, I thought so even more after that night. "Well…should we?" I asked. "Just so both of us can get it over with?"

"Hmm…just to get it over with?"

"Just to get it over with."

"And you swear we both go right back to hating each other as soon as it's over?"

"Totally," I assured, although I kind of liked us not hating each other. "And we never tell _anyone_."

"Never," she said. We both sat there in awkward silence for a moment.

"Well…" said Sam. "Lean."

And I did lean.

As soon as our lips met, I felt this weird connection with her that I couldn't quite explain. Was this the way it was for everyone when they kissed?Then I noticed something even weirder.

_Mmm…not too bad. Tastes kind of like chicken._

At first I thought Sam had said it, but then I realized that she couldn't say anything…for obvious reasons. Wait, so that meant…

Suddenly I realized that Sam and I had been kissing for quite a while. I'd meant for it to only last one or two seconds, but for some reason I'd kind of forgotten to stop. I broke the kiss and leaned back.

"Well…" I said, a little dazed. "That was um…"

"Nice?" Sam offered.

"Yeah…nice…"

"Good work?"

"Thank you. You too," I said quickly. It seemed like there was something else I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't think what it was.

"Hey," I said, finally breaking out of my daze. Sam turned around. "I hate you."

Sam smirked. "Hate you too." I was glad to see she knew what I meant. Most girls would've been upset if a guy told her that he hated her. But then, Sam Puckett wasn't most girls. She turned back toward the window and left.

As I watched her walk away, my mind raced with several thoughts, all about the events that had taken over the course of the last week. But one stood out more than all the others.

_Did I just read Sam's mind?_


	10. iStill Don't Know

**100 REVIEWS! W00T! Have I told you guys lately how awesome you are? Well you are. Seriously, you've all been so supportive and great through these first 10 chapters. This chapter is for all my awesome readers, but especially dedicated to my reviewers. I hope that you enjoy it and that you will continue to review!**

**Disclaimer: I own iCarly like the Amish own video games.**

"What are you staring at Dork?"

I snapped out of my trance and met Sam's eyes. It was Monday, and the first time I'd seen Sam since the kiss. I'd barely gotten any sleep all weekend, because I kept staying up trying to figure all this out. It was like the first time we met all over again. Only now I was trying to find out why I _could_ read her mind instead of why I _couldn't_. "I wasn't staring."

Sam just rolled her eyes and closed her locker. "Whatever." And with that she turned and walked away.

Well that ruled out one of my theories. I thought that maybe the kiss was like a password or something and that now I might be able to read her mind all the time. Wrong. I was still just as clueless about Sam's thoughts as ever.

It was time to test out my other theory. I just had to find the perfect opportunity.

* * *

My opportunity came at lunch that day while standing in the lunch line.

Of course, my mom would never let me eat cafeteria food (_"You don't know what they put in that stuff! It's probably full of pesticides and steroids!"_), but I decided that pesticide-filled macaroni surprise was better than whatever gray sludge my mom had packed me that day. So cafeteria food it was.

I was near the end of the line where the deserts were. On the left side of the dessert area was some unfortunate smelling gelatin that no one except for Gibby Gibson ever dared to consume, but on the right side was something that actually looked appetizing. Something they almost never had available. Chocolate pudding. And there was only one left.

I reached for the small bowl, grateful for my good luck, when it was suddenly taken from my grasp. I looked over to see who had stolen it. Of course.

"Sam! That was my pudding!"

"Tough nubs," she said detachedly while licking pudding off her finger.

"But it was the last one!"

"I know. Why do you think I took it?"

"Arrggg! Sam!"

"Well 'arrggg' back at'cha, Captain Dorkatron."

I was just about to get even angrier, when suddenly a thought occurred to me. Normally I'd just try to reason with Sam until I got tired and gave up, but this was the opportunity I'd been waiting for. I took a deep breath, mustered all my strength, and grabbed the bowl of pudding out of Sam's hands.

"Hey! What the…" She looked up to see me smirking at her as I placed the bowl back on my tray. "Benson," she growled. She reached out, either to take the pudding or slap me silly, or maybe both. I guess I'll never know exactly what she was about to do, because before she could do it, I grabbed her wrist. Her eyes bore into mine, flashing anger like lightning, but I didn't let go. I kept a firm hold on her tiny wrist for about six seconds before she finally used her other hand to punch me in the gut. I fell to the ground, and Sam grabbed my food tray - pudding and all - off the rack. She gave a satisfied smirk as she walked away, making sure to step on my stomach as she passed.

Well that didn't work out the way I'd planned. But at least I found out that I was wrong about my second theory. Prolonged physical contact did not give me the ability to read Sam's mind. But it might just give me a bruised organ or two.

* * *

I watched my feet as I shuffled down the hallway to my apartment after school. I knew Mom had to work late that day, so I was in no rush to get home. Besides, I was still felling a little sore from the incident at lunch. As I rounded the corner, I heard someones thoughts not that far from me, but far enough that I couldn't tell exactly what it was that they were thinking about.

"Hello Freddie!" I heard a familiar voice call. I looked up to see a silver haired woman smiling at me.

"Hey!" I said, and ran to give Moira a hug. "How was Florida?"

"Wonderful. Seattle seems so cold and dreary after ten days in Miami. Remind me to enter more of those vacation sweepstakes things." _Speaking of the trip…_ She gestured toward the suitcases lying on the floor. I had to chuckle. Of course she knew when to be outside her apartment so that I'd be there to help her with her bags. I wordlessly grabbed the bags and brought them inside.

"Thanks," she said, setting down her purse, which was the only thing she carried herself. "Would you like to stay for some tea?"

"Sure." I set the heavy bags down on the floor and took my usual seat at her kitchen table.

"So, did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" she asked, coming back into the room with two cups, each filled with hot water and a tea bag.

"Ummm…" I debated whether or not I should tell her about kissing Sam and reading her mind. I mean, she did tell me to stop obsessing over that stuff. Then again, that had been quite a while ago, and these were different circumstances. But then again, I did promise Sam that I wouldn't tell anyone. But Sam didn't know Moira, and I knew Moira would never tell. But if Sam found out that I told…

"Look," she said, taking her seat across from me, "I already know that you're going to tell me something important. I could continue to use my powers to see what it is, but I'm a little jet-lagged and frankly, I don't feel like it. So why don't you save us both some trouble and just tell me now."

"I…I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because Sam will kill me if she finds out that I told someone that we kissed!" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I clasped a hand over my mouth.

Moira laughed and shook her head. "You are the worst secret keeper ever." As usual, she didn't seem surprised. "So you kissed Sam, eh? I thought you said you hated her."

"I do! I mean, we hate each other…kind of. I mean…well, that's not the point. We didn't kiss because we stopped hating each other."

"Oh, so the fact that you stopped hating each other had nothing to do with it?"

"Right, it had nothing…wait! NO! We didn't stop hating each other. We just…URGGG!"

"Well that explains it," she said calmly as she removed the tea bag from her drink and took a sip.

"Look," I said, "I still hate Sam and Sam still hates me. We may have gotten used to each other, but that doesn't mean we actually like each other. You see, Sam kind of blabbed a week before that I'd never kissed anyone, and everyone started making fun of me. So to get people to stop, she announced that she'd never kissed anyone either. We only kissed because neither of us had ever kissed anyone and we wanted to…you know…get it over with. Just so that we could say we'd kissed someone before."

"Wait…so let me get this straight. You and Sam kissed so that you could say that you kissed?"

"Basically."

"And then you swore you'd never tell anyone about it?"

"Yep."

"And so…what exactly was the point of kissing her if no one was ever supposed to know it happened?"

"Well…" I started. Then I realized: I didn't know. "Uhh…"

"Mmhmm," she said, raising her eyebrows as she added sugar to her drink. "And Sam…was she being bullied about never being kissed too?"

"No, people are too afraid of her to do that…"

"But they were bullying you?"

"Well, they were until Sam threatened them…"

"So tell me this. What did either one of you have to gain from this? I mean, doesn't Sam think you're a nerd? Is kissing a nerd really better than nothing at all?"

"I guess she thought so…"

"And if anyone found out about it, Sam would kill you. Would being dead be better than having people think you've never kissed anyone?"

"Okay! So I didn't think it through!"

"If you say so," she said, taking another sip of tea.

"Look, the fact that we kissed is beside the point. There was another part to the story…"

"You two aren't married now, are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "NO. But you see, when we kissed…well…you see…I think…I think that maybe I…I…"

"Feel free to spit it out anytime."

"I think I read Sam's mind!"

"Well," said Moira, a trace of a small smile on her face. "That is something, isn't it?" She folded her hands neatly, evidently done talking. We sat there in silence for a moment.

"That's it?" I said in disbelief. "That's all you're going to say about it?"

"Yep."

"You don't even want to hear what she was thinking about?"

"Not really."

"And you're not going to explain any of this to me, are you?"

"You learn quickly, young grasshopper."

"No helpful advice, no words of wisdom…"

"Nope."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Well," I said. "Okay then. I guess I'll just…leave." I got up from my seat, still staring at Moira. But she just sat there calmly, that knowing half-smile lingering on her face, thinking about the wall color like she always did when she didn't want me to know what she was really thinking. She gave me a small wave as I exited the apartment.

As I continued down the hall, trying to sort things out in my mind, I only knew two things for sure. One was that I would never understand women. And the other was that I was pretty sure I didn't hate Sam anymore.

* * *

**Not a very long or exciting chapter, and there wasn't a lot of mind reading in it, but I did my best and I hope you liked it.**

**Oh, and maybe I can make it up to you guys. I just wrote a little Seddie one-shot today. It needs proof-reading, so it probably won't be up until later tonight or early tomorrow. It's...um...well it's a weird one, but I hope you guys like it anyway. It's going to be called "Attack of the Beavecoons" (hey, I said it was weird), so look for it sometime between now and tomorrow if you're interested. It won't be under romance, but humor/hurt/comfort. Sounding weird enough for you? Oh, and one other thing...it's in Spencer's POV.**


	11. iAm Not That Gullible

**Sorry I didn't update last weekend guys! I was a little busy and I had trouble finding the parts of the iTwins episode that I needed. And just to let you guys know, I STILL can't find everything I need from the episode. I was able to get MOST of the stuff I needed, but there was this one little place I couldn't get (the very end of Freddie and Spencer's dodge ball conversation up until the point when he bumps into Sam in the hall outside the apartment), so I had to rely on my memory, which I'm afraid was probably off.**

**Also, thanks to veeheart914 for coming up with Socko's cousin's name. It was way better than my idea.**

**Disclaimer: Not only do I not own iCarly, but I've never even MET the incredibly awesome Dan Schneider. Sigh. Life's not fair.**

I was in my living room, reading a book on advanced computer coding, when there was a knock on the door.

"Coming," I said, closing the book and getting up to answer the door. Outside the apartment stood a large, balding man holding a small, cardboard box.

"Delivery for a Mr. Fredward Benson," he said in a deep voice.

"That's me."

_Poor kid. Who in their right mind would name their kid Fredward? _"Sign here please," he said, handing me a wooden clipboard. I signed it quickly and took the package, closing the door after him.

"Freddie," my mom said, coming out of the bathroom, "Who was at the door?"

Uh oh. I quickly hid the package behind my back. "No one. Just a…girl sprout." If Mom found out that I had gotten a package, she'd surely want to see it first. And since it had no return address and I had no idea who sent it, there was no way she'd let me keep it.

"You didn't buy any cookies, did you?" _I've really got to be more careful with monitoring his sugar intake. I bet those Shays are feeding him all sorts of garbage._

I rolled my eyes. "No mom."

"Good. You know what I always say. Cookies and sweets…"

"Are bad for you or something," I finished, trying to escape to my room without my mom noticing the package still hidden behind my back. "Yeah, got it."

"Freddie! You know that's not how it goes! That doesn't even rhyme for gluten's sake!"

"Sorry Mom," I said as I backwards stepped into the safety of my bedroom. "I'll do better next time." I shut the door before she could say anything else.

I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the package out from behind my back to examine it. It was pretty small – no bigger than a child's shoe box – and had my name and address written directly on the cardboard in messy handwriting that looked like it was trying really hard to be neat. The return address was nowhere to be found.

I had to wonder who in the world would be sending me a package. My birthday was several months away, and this was definitely not something that I'd ordered myself. After studying it for a moment longer to try to find a clue as to who might have sent it and having no luck, I decided to open it. But the tape was good quality, and my short fingernails couldn't pull it up. Trying to use my house key to open it didn't work out either, thanks to the special locks with blunt keys that my mom had insisted on buying when we first moved into the apartment. I knew what I needed, and I knew that it was something I wouldn't find at home.

* * *

I knocked on the Shay's front door, only to open it myself a moment later. "Hey," I said, walking into the room and spotting Carly and Spencer sitting on the couch watching a show about elephants. "Can I borrow a scissors?"

"Don't you have a scissors?" Carly asked.

"Nah, my mom says they're too dangerous to keep around the house."

"We've got a scissors in the kitchen drawer," said Spencer. "Can you handle them?"

"I think I can."

"Come with me." I followed Spencer to the kitchen where he retrieved a pair of medium-sized scissors. I was about to leave when I heard a buzzing noise. The intercom system.

"Yeah?" said Carly, walking to the intercom and pressing the button.

"Carly?" said the voice on the other end of the speaker. "It's Melanie."

"Oh, hey Melanie! Come on up!"

"That's Sam's sister?" Spencer asked.

"Oh come on! They've got you in on it too?" Lately Carly and Sam (well, mostly Sam) had been going really heavy on the pranks. The latest one: trying to convince me that Sam had a twin sister.

"In on what?"

"Guys, I'm not falling for it. I know Sam doesn't have a twin sister."

"She does too!" Carly insisted. Her thoughts indicated that she actually believed what she was saying. Sam had probably tricked her into believing it because she knew Carly was a terrible liar.

"No she…is that a new necklace?"

"Yeah, you like it?"

"Can you return it?"

"No."

"It's nice."

Just then the elevator opened and a very familiar looking girl walked out. Even with the girly clothes and uncharacteristic ponytail, there was no denying that it was Sam.

"Hi!" she squealed girlishly. Boy, she was really going all out with this thing, wasn't she?

"Hey Melanie!" Carly said, running to give the girl a hug.

"Oh, give me a break!"

"Wow," Carly said, ignoring me completely, "I don't think I've seen you since the seventh grade!"

"I know!" She turned away from Carly to give Spencer a hug. "Hi Spencer!"

"Hey kid," Spencer said, hugging her back.

"This is the stupidest thing ever!" I shouted, getting a little frustrated.

"Oh my gosh, you're Freddie!" said Sam/Melanie, finally acknowledging my presence. "I recognize you from iCarly."

"Oh, SHUT UP!"

"Huh?" she said. "I'm confused."_ Why is he yelling at me? He always seems so nice on the web show. _Wait, did I just read her mind?

"Really? _SAM_."

"He thinks Sam is messing with him about having a twin sister," Carly explained.

"Oh," the blonde girl laughed, "I don't blame you. It is the kind of thing Sam would do." _I love my sister, but she is always making mischief!_

"Duh huh," I said stupidly, mostly because I was a little shocked about reading Sam's mind again, and I was having trouble coming up with anything half-way intelligent to say.

"You know, one time she tried to convince me I was adopted." _That certainly made for an interesting conversation with our mother._

"Uh huh. And isn't it _convenient _that Sam isn't here right now?"

"She should be here," she said, looking at her phone. "It's almost eight." _Typical Sam. She's always late for everything._

"Well let's just go," said Carly. "I'll text Sam and have her meet us at the movie."

"Perfect!"

I clapped my hands. "Wonderful!" I said. "Bravo! Very believable performance Carly and _SAM._"

"Freddie, I'm _really _Melanie." _Maybe he has a learning disability or something…_

"Duh huh!"

"Later," Carly said, rolling her eyes.

"Nice meeting you!"

"Uh, okay," I mocked. They left and I turned to Spencer. "How can they think I'm that gullible?"

"Clown Day?" Spencer said skeptically.

"That email looked really real!" I defended.

"Don't feel bad. When I was a kid at sleep-away camp, my friends tricked me into thinking it was Naked Day. Ever play dodge ball naked?"

"No."

"Don't ever do it."

"I won't."

"Because…"

"I get it." I decided it would be a good time to leave the apartment, as Spencer was already going over the story in his mind. That was not something I wanted to be around to hear. I walked into the hall and ran into someone…literally.

"Watch where you're going," Sam said angrily. Her long, blonde hair was down again, and she was wearing her usual shorts and t-shirt combo.

"Impressive," I said. "What, you changed your clothes and hair in the lobby, then took the main elevator back up here?"

"What are you yapping on about now?" Her phone buzzed and she took it out and flipped it open. "Wait…ah, I gotta go meet Carly and Melanie at the Omniplex."

"Okay, well you better hurry. You don't want to keep yourself waiting!" I chuckled as I walked back into my apartment. Unfortunately, I was too busy being amused by my own joke to remember to hide the scissors from my mom.

"Freddie!" she shrieked as I walked through the door.

"They're _just_ scissors!"

"Exactly! Don't you know that scissors can cut things?"

"That's the point, Mom…"

"Point! They are also pointy!"

I sighed. "I'm going to my room."

"Don't you dare! Oh, I knew that if I let you associate with those miscreants next door and their obnoxious blonde friend that they'd eventually start to rub off on you. Next thing you know you'll be covered and tattoos and robbing supermarkets! Come back here right now young man! No, don't you close that door in my face when I'm talking to you! FREDWARD BENSON!"

I locked the door behind me and tried not to think about how upset my mom must have been. I knew locking her out was a mean thing to do, but she was really starting to get on my nerves lately.

"FREDDIE!" my mom's voice called out from behind the door. "FREDWARD BENSON! OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT THIS MINUTE YOUNG MAN! OPEN IT AND GIVE ME THE SCISSORS OR YOU'LL BE GROUNDED FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE! REMEMBER, BLADES THAT ARE THIN WILL PUNCTURE THE SKIN! FREDDIE!"

I ignored her as I picked up the package on my bed and used the scissors to open it. There was a flash of bright colors as something – or rather several somethings – flew out of the package and hit me in the face before falling to the ground. It took me a moment to recover, and then I looked down at the strange objects that had just flown from the box. Five jumping snakes, the kind that people sometimes hide in cans of peanut brittle, lay on the floor, along with a note that said simply, "Love Sam."

So maybe I am gullible.

* * *

Somehow I convinced my mom that I was only using the scissors because I thought I saw a rabid mouse and I needed something to protect myself with and didn't want her to worry about it. She gave me a bone-crushing hug and sprayed me with mouse repellant, but at least I wasn't grounded. I felt bad about lying to her. What with the scissors incident and the lying, I was doing a lot of things lately that my mom didn't exactly approve of. Maybe Sam really was starting to rub off on me.

Of course, now I was kind of wishing that I was grounded. At least that way I'd have an excuse and I wouldn't be on my way to an under-21 dance club for my date with Sam.

That's right, I had a date with Sam. Somehow, in trying to prove that Melanie was really just Sam in disguise, I'd ended up asking her out by accident. And she said yes. I still didn't know exactly what she was up to with all this, but I did know that before the night was over I was going to prove once and for all that Melanie wasn't real and that I wasn't gullible…usually.

Spencer was driving us to the club, and I sat next to Sam/Melanie in the back seat. I glanced in her direction. She didn't look anything like she usually did. Her hair was up in a fancy ponytail and she was wearing a little red dress and jewelry. She must have noticed I was staring, and she looked at me an smiled. She actually seemed happy, which was weird, but I knew it was just an act.

But the thing that was really confusing was that I could still read her mind. When she was 'Sam' I couldn't, but every time she pretended to be Melanie, I could. I finally decided that Sam must have figured out that I'm psychic and that she was just really good at blocking her thoughts when she wanted to. That would explain why I was able to read her mind when we kissed, because she must have accidentally let her guard down for a moment, and it would also explain why I could read her mind when she was 'Melanie,' because she was must have been using it to confuse me. But I still couldn't figure out how she would know that I was psychic or how she could block out my powers. The only thing that I knew for sure was that Sam was not just evil, but an evil genius.

We finally arrived at the dance club, and Spencer dropped us off, telling us that he'd pick us up in an hour and a half, to call if anything happened, and to stay away from one-eyed hobos at all costs. Then he wished me luck and drove away.

The inside of the club was noisy and crowded. Annoying electronic-pop music filled the dimly lit room, and teenagers covered the dance floor, dancing like hormone-driven maniacs. I followed Sam/Melanie to the couch near the back of the room.

"Aren't you going to go get me a drink?" she asked as I started to sit down.

"Uh…yeah, sure," I said, standing up straight again. "Be right back."

I looked around for a while before I finally saw a sign labeled 'Refreshments.'

"Two medium Wahoo Punches," I said to the man behind the counter, laying down a five dollar bill.

"Coming right up," said a familiar voice. The man filled up two glasses with punch and turned around to hand them to me.

"Here you go…well hey Freddie!" he said.

"T-Bo? What are you doing here?"

"Giving you the two medium Wahoo Punches you ordered."

"I can see that. I meant, why are you here? I thought the Groovy Smoothie was the only place you worked."

"It is. I'm just filling in for my friend who works here. He had to go to his cousin Socko's birthday party and wanted someone who knew a lot about the art of drink serving to fill in for him. Bart hates when people serve beverages without caring about the art behind it."

"Bart?"

"That's his name. Bart Ender."

"Of course it is," I said and took the glasses of punch. "Thanks T-Bo."

"Anytime, Fredster. Anytime."

As I was walking back to the couch, I got caught between two dancing girls, causing most of the contents the glasses to spill all over the floor. _Oh man, _I thought, _it already took me forever to get the drinks in the first place. If I show up with no more than a spoonful of punch in each glass, Sam will be furious._

That's when I had an idea. If I made Sam mad enough, she'd _have _to show her true colors, and then I could prove that Melanie wasn't real. I smiled as I poured the remnants of the drinks on the floor and walked over to the couch with the empty glasses.

"Get thirsty on the way here?" she laughed. Darn it. She didn't seem angry at all.

"Sort of." I said. "So, _Melanie_…you look pretty hot tonight." That would definitely make her mad.

"Thanks!" she giggled. "I love your shirt." _Yay! He thinks I'm hot!_

"No you don't! Carly said you hate stripes!"

"Sam hates stripes…"

"How long are you going to keep this up? Just admit you're Sam and we can leave." I pushed her shoulder for emphasis.

"I would…ow…" she rubbed her shoulder._ I can't believe he's still on this thing. _"But I'm not Sam."

"Okay," I said, getting another idea. I scooted noticeably closer to her. "If you're not Sam, then I guess I wouldn't mind if I held your hand."

"_I_ don't mind at all," she said smiling. I looked at her in confusion. "I think you're really cute."

"How can you say that without vomiting?" I shouted.

"What?" _What is wrong with him? Who treats a date like this?_

I let go of her hand in exasperation. I guess I was being a little mean to her. My mom had raised me to always be a gentleman around girls. But this wasn't a girl. This was Sam. And one way or another, I was going to prove it.

Just then the song that was playing ended and a slow song took its place. I smiled evilly. Perfect.

"Alright," I said. "If you're not Sam, I suppose you wouldn't mind dancing." I raised my eyebrows at her. "With me."

"I'd love to," she said, standing up.

"This is a slow dance you know."

"I know."

"We'll have to dance together, pressed against each other."

"Yeah, let's go." She grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor. I started dancing with her, and she pulled me closer, much against my wishes.

This was all wrong. I was tired of this prank, and as much as I hated to admit it, I missed the real Sam. Evil plan or no evil plan, I realized that I liked hanging out with Sam a lot more when she was being herself. Even though she never hurt me physically or emotionally, 'Melanie' just didn't have the energy and charisma that Sam had.

"I can't believe you're doing this," I said. And it was true. I really couldn't believe that Sam would give up everything that made her Sam and actually pretend to like me, even if it was just part of some evil plot.

"Why? I like you." _Why doesn't he like me back?_

"You hate me. You always have."

"Maybe Sam hates you."

"You are Sam!"

"Really?" she said in a voice that made my skin crawl in a bad way. "Would Sam do this?" Before my brain could process what was happening, she leaned in and planted her lips firmly on mine.

The kiss was bold and pushy. Nothing like our surprisingly timid, incredibly awkward, and unexpectedly nice first kiss. The whole time she kept thinking about the how to get me to like her back, not about chicken or evil schemes. She pulled away and I stared at her in disbelief.

"You swore we'd never do that again," I said.

"_I _didn't swear anything." She started to lean in again.

I backed away quickly and stared at her. I still didn't know what it was that Sam had planned, but it must be even more manically evil than I first thought, and frankly, it scared the crap out of me. So I did what any self-respecting man would do in my situation. I ran away like a frightened little girl.

"Freddie!" Sam/Melanie called as she chased after me. "Freddie!"

After nearly five minutes, I finally managed to lose her when I ran outside of the club. I stopped to catch my breath and stared up into the dark night sky at the few stars that were bright enough to be seen despite the light pollution. When my heart rate finally slowed down a bit, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Spencer's number.

"_Y-ello?"_ answered a voice through the receiver.

"Spencer, I need you to come pick me up."

"_Now? But I just dropped you off less than half an hour ago. What happened?"_

"Long story."

"_Is everything alright?"_

"Yeah yeah, everything's fine. It's just…well I don't think it's going to work out between me and…well…the person I came here with." _Whoever they were._

_"Okay, if you're sure. I'll be there in five minutes."_

"Thanks Spence."

_"No problem, Freddo."_ The line went dead and I put the phone back in my pocket.

"So you really don't like me, huh?"

I turned around to see 'Melanie' standing behind me. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," she shrugged.

"Look, I'm really sorry. It's just…wait, why am I apologizing to you? You're the one who tried to trick me into thinking you had a twin sister."

"Is that why you hate me? Because you think I'm Sam and you hate her?"

"I don't hate you, Sam."

"Freddie, I'm not…"

"Don't try to convince me that you're 'Melanie' again. I know it's just some stupid trick. But it doesn't change the fact that I don't hate you."

She furrowed her eyebrows together and cocked her head to the side, staring at me strangely. "You like her, don't you?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. "Huh?"

"Sam. You like her."

"What? Of course not. I mean, I like her as a friend, though I would never tell her that…I did just tell her that, didn't I?" She raised her eyebrows. "You're going to kill me now, right?"

She just smiled and walked towards me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "No and no."

"Huh?"

"No I'm not Sam, and no I'm not going to kill you. But I'm also not going to keep trying to get you to like me. I think it's sweet that you like my sister. She needs someone like you in her life."

"I don't like your sister! I mean I don't like you! No, that's not what I meant either." I sighed in exasperation. "What I mean is, my feelings for Sam, whether you are her or not, are strictly platonic. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, half-smiling. "Whatever you say." _He so likes her._

I was opening my mouth to say something else when Spencer's car pulled up. He rolled down the window. "Ready you two?"

"Yeah, we're ready," said Melanie, or whoever she was. I followed her into the car and we rode back to the Bushwell Plaza in silence.

* * *

"There's no Melanie, you're not gullible, _and _you're too smart for me," Sam said. It was the day after our date and I'd finally gotten her to admit the truth.

"That's right! In your face Puckett!" I knew I'd get her to admit it eventually. Score one for the Fredman. "By ladies," I said and left the apartment.

I walked back into my own living room and spotted a note on the counter.

_"Freddiebear, _

_I have a dentist appointment right after work and I won't be able to stop anywhere first. Please go to the mall and pick up some more ointment from the Rashes-R-Us._

_Love, Mom"_

I grabbed my wallet, went over to Moira's apartment to let her know where I was going, and walked to the mall. Luckily, the mall was right next door to the Bushwell, so I didn't have far to walk.

As I was leaving the store, I spotted three girls walking out of the Canadian Eagle store. I easily recognized my brunette friend as one of the three, but the two blondes walking with her made me stop. I looked at one and thought Sam was just pretending to be Melanie again, but then I looked at the other blonde next to her, pulling a piece of bacon out of her skull-shaped purse. I looked back and forth between the two, both oblivious to the fact that I was even there, much less that I was staring at them. It appeared that there were two Sams. But that couldn't be true. And that meant…

That meant that I was either really stupid, or completely insane.


	12. iHate Friend Fights

**Gah, again, I've updated late. I tried to update this weekend, I really did, but this chapter was just too long and too complicated. By the time I figured out I needed to split the chapter into two parts, I was nearly 7,000 words in and almost done, so I decided to finish first and then decide where to split it. Luckily, I haven't had much homework this week so I've been able to work on it every day for a few hours, but like I said, it was REALLY long and complicated. The good news is that now the next chapter is already written. It's not edited yet, so I'm not going to put it up tonight, but it should be up by this Friday if nothing goes wrong.**

**Disclaimer: Hi! I'm the disclaimer! I enjoy computers, long walks on the beach, and destroying fan fiction writers hopes and dreams by reminding them and everyone else that they don't own the show they're writing about! Mwahaha!**

"Freddie," my mom said as she finished cleaning the dishes after dinner, "could you take the garbage out please?"

"Sure thing." I grabbed the full garbage bag out of the trash can and walked into the hall. As soon as I closed my apartment door, the one across the hall flew open. A streak of blonde hair and green stripes ran past me before I knew what was happening.

"Sam?" I said, but she only walked faster. I set the trash bag down and started sprinting after her. "Sam!"

She was almost to the elevators by the time I caught up with her. "Sam," I said, grabbing her shoulder to stop her from going any further. I felt her tense under my hand, but she didn't try to escape. She just stood there, silent and still.

"Sam, is everything alright?"

It was nearly a minute before she said anything. I'd almost given up and was about to walk away when she finally turned around to look at me. Her eyes were both fierce and melancholy. But before she spoke, she dropped her gaze so she was staring blankly at the floor again. "Yeah, Benson. Everything's just peachy." I didn't need to be able to read her mind to know that she was lying.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she insisted, still refusing to make eye contact.

"It sure doesn't seem like nothing."

"I SAID IT WAS NOTHING!"

"Sam, I…"

"Just…do me a favor…and leave me alone, okay?" And with that she walked away. By the time I had gathered my thoughts enough to say anything else, she was on the elevator and the doors had closed after her.

I let out a long sigh and went down the hall to retrieve the garbage bag. I knew it was useless to keep chasing after her. Sam had made it clear that she wanted me to leave her alone, and I decided it would probably be best if I didn't do anything to make her any angrier than she already was. I made up my mind to go talk to Carly. She'd probably know what was going on. I dropped the trash down the trash chute and stopped by my apartment to let my mom know I'd be next door.

Carly opened the door almost immediately after I knocked. Her eyes were wild and furious at first, but they calmed down a bit when she saw who I was.

"Oh," she said. "It's just you." _Thank god it's not Sam. I don't think I could handle seeing her again right now._

"Uh, nice to see you too?" I said, walking past her into the apartment.

"Sorry." She closed the door behind me and followed me to the kitchen. She didn't seem ready to talk yet, but that was okay. I got the gist of it from her thoughts.

_Stupid Sam…having the nerve to say that I show myself too much appreciation…Freddie's the one who named the show after me!…she never appreciates what I do for the show…can't even show up for rehearsal…without me iCarly wouldn't exist and she doesn't even care…_

I sat patiently at the bar while she filled a glass pitcher with water, lemon juice, and sugar.

"Lemonade?" she offered, holding up the pitcher.

"Uh…no thanks."

"Why do you never want to drink my lemonade?"

"Have you tasted your lemonade?" She was silent for a moment before taking a small sip.

"Groovy Smoothie?" she said, pouring the rest of the sour drink on a nearby plant.

"Right behind you."

* * *

"Your 'Awesome Acai Berry Avalanche,'" I said, handing Carly the smoothie she'd ordered.

"Thanks," she said, staring blankly out the window as I joined her at the small table. She took a sip of her smoothie and then set it back down. By then I'd pretty much figured out everything that had happened just from her thoughts, but I still had to play dumb so that I could talk to her about it. She didn't know that I knew.

_Stupid Sam…just like Fleck…lazy…doesn't care…, _her mind kept saying while she sat silently, studying the streaks on the Groovy Smoothie's big glass window. I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Well?" I said, after more than five minutes had passed and she still hadn't said anything.

"Huh?" she said, suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings.

"Are you going to tell me what happened now?"

"Oh, right."

More silence. "Still waiting."

"Well…Sam and I…we're not getting along too well right now."

"Yeah, I got that. But what happened?"

"I don't really want to talk about it…"

"Too bad. You and Sam are my friends. I'm not just going to sit back and watch you guys hate each other when there might be something I could do about it."

"Well, you see…wait, did you just call Sam your friend?" _Freddie and Sam never call each other friends._

"Don't change the subject."

She sighed. "Okay, okay. Well you know that comedy duo we were helping out? Fleck and Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"And you know how they got into a fight and broke up?"

"Uh huh?"

"Well Sam and I each went to try and talk some sense into them, but since we couldn't get them together in the same place, Sam went to talk to Fleck and I went to talk to Dave."

"Did it work?"

She looked at me incredulously. "Yeah Freddie. It worked and now they're best friends again and everything is great and happy and wonderful again."

Okay, so I may have gone a little overboard with playing dumb that time. "There's no need to be rude," I mumbled.

"Sorry. It's just…I'm a little stressed right now."

I nodded. "So what happened when you talked to Dave?"

"Well he was talking about how Fleck is so irresponsible and never gives him any respect. And Dave is always the one who does all the hard work to make their videos happen, but Fleck gets half the credit anyway and doesn't even care. And it just got me thinking…"

"How that sounds just like you and Sam?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

"And I'm guessing that the next time you and Sam talked it didn't go so well?"

She shook her head slowly, staring down at the sticky, multi-colored floor.

"Look," I said, "All friends have fights."

"Yeah, but this one was different. It wasn't even like a fight. I mean, we didn't yell or anything, we just said stuff, and it was…bad."

"Come on, you and Sam have been friends forever."

"I know, but…people change."

"Uh huh," said a voice behind us. "That's what happened to me and my friend Eddie Robinson." We looked up to see T-Bo holding a long wooden stick with muffins stuck on it. "He got hit by a bus. Now he's Deady Robinson. Talk about change!" He seemed unfazed by the fact that we were both staring at him. "Try a muffin." He handed Carly a large cranberry muffin and walked away.

Carly picked up the over-sized bakery treat. "He told us about his dead friend then gave me a muffin."

I heard the sound of a bell jingling as the front door of the smoothie shop opened. "'Sup guys?" said a boy just a few years younger than us, brushing his reddish-blonde hair out of his eyes.

"Hey Dave," said Carly.

"Hola David."

"Did you come up with a funny idea for the iShorts competition?" Carly asked as Dave joined us at the table.

"I thought he and Fleck broke up?" I said.

"They did."

"Yep," said Dave. "Which is why I'm going to make an awesomely hilarious video by myself. I don't need Fleck's help or anyone's."

"That's right," Carly agreed.

"Okay…" I said skeptically.

"Will you guys help me?" Dave said, practically begging. I rolled my eyes.

The bell on the door jingled again.

"No way!" said Fleck. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "So I got his arm behind his back, and I'm bending it and bending it but it won't snap. And so finally I decide that I'm…" She noticed Carly, Dave and me sitting a few feet away. "Um…"

"What are you doing here?" Fleck asked Dave, breaking the awkward silence.

"None of your bee's cheese!" said Dave.

"We're having a private meeting," Carly informed.

"Good," said Sam. "So are me and Fleck!"

"How nice!"

Sam's mouth scrunched up and her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "T-BO!" she shouted.

T-Bo jumped and dropped the smoothie he was making. "WHAT?"

"We want a table as far away from _them_," she pointed at our table, "as possible."

"Have I ever cared where you sit?"

Sam glanced back at us reproachfully. "Come on Fleck." She led him to a table on the other side of the restaurant.

"I can't believe she came here!" Carly said.

"You came here," I pointed out.

"I always come here!"

"She always comes here too."

"Wanna get thumped?" She held her fingers, ready in "thumping" position, a few inches above my head. I backed away a little.

"Look," I said, "maybe it's fate that you and Sam are both here. Why don't you go apologize to her?"

"I have nothing to apologize for," she said, crossing her arms stubbornly. "SAM'S THE ONE WHO SHOULD SAY SHE'S SORRY!" _I hope she heard that. _Was there any way she might not have heard it?

"She thinks _you _should say you're sorry," Fleck told Sam.

"Yeah right," said Sam. "I'LL SAY I'M SORRY TO CARLY RIGHT AFTER T-BO GRADUATES FROM MEDICAL SCHOOL!"

"I happen to be a doctor of Smoothiology!"

"AND WHY DON'T YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN OVER THERE?" Carly shouted.

"YEAH!" Dave said, just as he was hit in the head with a muffin. "FLECK THREW A MUFFIN AT ME!"

"HEY!" said Carly. "NO THROWING MUFFINS!" Another muffin suddenly flew across the room, hitting Carly right in the face. "OW! SAM!"

"IT SLIPPED!" Sam said, smirking deviously.

"Uh, you've got a cranberry on your nose," Dave told Carly. She wiped furiously at her nose until the cranberry fell off. Narrowing her eyes, she picked up the muffin T-Bo had given her and threw it at Sam. It was too bad Carly couldn't throw anything to save her life. The little old lady it hit instead let out a yelp and toppled to the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" Carly said.

"I ACCEPT YOUR APPOLOGY!" said Sam.

"IT WASN'T FOR YOU! IT WAS FOR THAT LADY I MUFFINED!"

"GUYS!" I yelled, getting up from my seat. "Come on, we've got a webshow to do tomorrow night. So you two had better work this out!"

"MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO WORK IT OUT!" shouted Sam.

"FINE! I CAN DO ICARLY BY MYSELF!"

"YOU CAN'T DO ICARLY WITHOUT ME!"

"YES I CAN! 'CAUSE WE DO IT AT _MY _HOUSE AND YOU'RE BANNED FROM THERE!"

"I DON'T WANT TO BE THERE! I DON'T EVEN WANT TO BE IN THE SAME ROOM WITH YOU!"

"WELL LUCKY YOU! THERE'S THE DOOR!"

"GOOD! WHY DON'T YOU USE IT?"

"I WILL!"

"NO, I WILL! Come on Fleck!"

"Let's go Dave!"

The two pairs of ex-friends appeared at the exit at the same time. They all stared at each other for a moment before simultaneously shoving their way through the door, getting stuck for a moment before finally managing to get outside and storming off in different directions.

I walked over to the little old lady Carly had hit with a muffin. "Are you okay ma'am?" I asked. "Would you like…" I was cut off as she swung her purse at me. Hard. There was a loud _thud _as I fell to the floor. With a "Hmph!" and a scowl, the old lady turned and walked away.

"Ughhh…" I groaned.

Apparently T-Bo was curious about what all the commotion was about, because he came over and looked down at me. I thought he was going to help me up, but instead…

"Man Freddie, that old lady did not like you."

"YOU THINK?"

"Well!" he said indignantly. "There's no need to be rude." He walked away, leaving me lying on the floor, sticky and in pain.

It was official. I was surrounded by crazy people. Well, maybe T-Bo was just an idiot.

* * *

"_Freddie's such an idiot."_

Those were the words Sam had spoken just a few minutes before she and Carly had split…for good.

I thought that if we just did iCarly with Sam in a different location that they would realize how much they missed doing the show together and they would make up.

Wrong.

"_Let's just end this!"_

"_Come on," I tried to reason. "You guys have never stopped in the middle of a show before."_

"_I don't mean end this show," Carly explained. "I mean end iCarly."_

"_Cool with me." Sam shrugged as if it mean nothing, but I could hear her voice crack a little, and I could see the pain in her eyes._

I had to wonder if maybe it wouldn't have gone quite so badly if I had just done a better job of operating the technology, but deep down I knew that it would've ended badly one way or another anyway.

All that night I stayed shut up in my room, trying to come up with a solution for how to get them back together, but to no avail. Forget not being able to read Sam's mind. Forget the whole school finding out I'd never kissed anyone. My best friends couldn't stand each other. It was the worst thing to happen to me in years. Ten years to be exact.

After a sleepless night on Friday, I was really tired by the time Saturday morning came. I didn't even want to use enough energy to get out of bed, but I knew I had to. There were only two people I knew who were sneaky enough to come up with a plan that might get Carly and Sam to make up at this point. One was a certain blond-headed bully who I was pretty sure wasn't in the mood for helping out in this situation. That left me with one person to go to. The only problem was that she'd never met Carly or Sam.

Somehow I was able to drag myself out of bed, get dressed, and leave my apartment. Pretty soon I was in front of the apartment that I needed to go to. I opened the door without knocking and walked inside.

"Moira?" I called out. The apartment was dark. Not even the old fashioned oil lamps were on. I flipped on one of the light switches that she almost never used, and to my surprise, the bulb actually flickered to life. "Moira? Anybody home?"

The apartment appeared to be completely empty. Just like Moira to leave her apartment empty and not lock the door. She always said that if someone did steal something from her, they probably needed whatever it was more than she did anyway. Luckily, it appeared that no one had robbed her yet. I looked on the kitchen table, and sure enough there was a note.

"_Freddie," _it said. _"Sorry I'm not home right now. I knew you'd be coming to ask for advice, but there was somewhere I had to go for a few days. I'm sure that whatever the problem is, you'll figure it out in time. You're a smart boy. I believe in you._

_-Moira._

_P.S. Could you please fix the window washer a glass of iced tea?"_

I sighed and set the note back down. Great. Now what? And what did she mean by window wa…

_Eeee eeee eeee!_

I heard a weird squeaking noise and looked up to see a window washer's platform being lowered so that the window washer could clean Moira's windows. The balding man in the navy blue coveralls picked up his squeegee, then looked up and saw me. A smile broke out across his face and he waved. It was a little weird, because I didn't even know the guy. Moira was the only person I knew who never put blinds or curtains in her apartment. At my apartment the blinds were rarely pulled up, so the window washer usually went unnoticed. I waved back at him. His smile grew even wider, and he continued washing the windows. I figured that he must have been lonely out there on that tiny platform, all by himself all day. It was no wonder that just a little wave seemed to make him so happy.

I walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. Sure enough, a pitcher of tea sat on the top shelf. I grabbed a cup from the cabinet, filled it with tea and ice, and walked towards the window. The man was looking upward as he cleaned the top of the window, so I tapped on the glass to get his attention. He smiled as he looked down and saw me. I pointed to the glass of iced tea and he nodded his head, but when I pushed up the bottom half of the window, I noticed that the screen was in the way.

"Bottom right corner," he said. I was confused for a second, but then I looked in that corner of the window and saw what he was talking about. Apparently, someone had cut along the edges of the corner so that something small, about the size of a glass of iced tea, could be pushed through it, but there was no real hole so the tear in the screen wouldn't be too noticeable. I pushed the tea through the flap and handed it to the man.

"Thanks," he said, taking the glass and drinking from it thirstily. "I thought I was about to die of thirst. It's a real scorcher out here today." He took another big sip of tea. "So who are you? Where's Moira?"

"Freddie Benson," I said. "Apartment 8D. I'm a friend of Moira's. She's not here right now."

"8D, huh? That's the apartment with the immaculately clean blinds and that usually has the sound of a vacuum cleaner going somewhere inside?"

"Yeah, that's the one. So…Morris," I said, spotting his name tag, "Are you a window washer for a bunch of different places, or just the Bushwell?"

"Just the Bushwell," he said setting the tea down on the floor of the platform and going back to cleaning the window. "But it's not the only job I do here. I clean lots of things. Windows, floors, bathrooms…"

"So you're like a janitor?"

"I prefer to think of it as 'executive in charge of sanitation,' but you get the idea."

"Sorry, but I think my mom has you beat when it comes to sanitation. Yesterday I saw her cleaning soap."

He stopped. "Seriously? Jeez. And I thought my ex-wife was crazy. No offence."

"None taken." He went back to washing the windows. "So you know Moira too?"

"Yeah. Nice lady. For the last few years now she's been giving me a glass of iced tea and staying to talk to me every time I clean her windows. Well, if she's here that is. I'm glad for her. This job gets kind of lonely sometimes. But when there's another person to talk to, well it's kind of pleasant. Peaceful even. It's a good place to just talk about your problems and get things off your chest."

"Yeah. I bet it is." Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. "Hey Morris?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure. I don't promise that I'll do it, but you can ask."

"Do you think maybe you could loan me your window washing platform for one night?"

He stopped his squeegee suddenly and he stared at me curiously. "What for?"

* * *

"Seriously? You really think they'd let us use the window washer's platform to shoot Dave's iShorts video?"

"I don't see why not," I said. "As long as we're supervised…and we don't tell my mom. So what do you think?"

"Well I don't know how in the world you came up with something like that, but it sounds like an awesome idea!" Carly said. "But who do we ask for permission?"

"I don't know. Why don't we try asking the janitor?"

Phase one, convincing Carly, was complete. Now for phase two…


	13. Now iAm Really Confused

**Hola! Guess who's updating right on time? THIS GIRL!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly…and I have nothing clever or witty to say about it.**

_Phase one, convincing Carly, was complete. Now for phase two…

* * *

_

"What do you want Dishrag?"

I was standing on Sam's rickety front porch, still a little surprised that she had actually exerted the energy to answer the door when I knocked. "Well…" I said, "since you and Carly decided you weren't going to do iCarly anymore, I uh…I wanted to give you this." I reached behind my back and pulled out the small, blue box-shaped device.

Her eyes softened. "My remote?"

I smiled and pressed the applause button. Sam rolled her eyes, apparently not finding it as amusing as I did. "Why'd you bring me this thing?" she asked rudely, though she took the remote from my hands anyway.

"I just…thought you might like to have it. For old time's sake."

"Oh," she said, not taking her eyes from the familiar little special effects box that she'd been using on iCarly for the last two years. "Uh…thanks." I raised my eyebrows. "And if you ever tell anyone I just thanked you, you'll be the one thanking me if I decide to let you live."

I gulped. "Got it. So…have you come up with any ideas on what to do for the iShorts competition?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just…curious."

"Well it's none of your bee's cheese."

"Bee's cheese?"

"Dave said it the other day and you didn't question it. Anyway, do you really think I'd tell the competition our idea?"

"I'm not the competition, Sam. I'm just the nubby cameraman, remember?"

She smirked. "The nubbiest."

"Besides," I said. "You'd probably want to do something really dangerous. No way Carly would do anything that put her or anyone else in danger."

"True. You and Carls are kind of pansies."

"Ignoring that. You'd probably want to do something like have me mauled by a tiger…"

"That was one of my best ideas for the web show! I still don't see why we couldn't do it…"

"Or poking rabid animals with sticks…"

"Nuh uh. Not after last time."

"Or damaging public property…"

"Been there, done that."

"Or…pfft…doing the show from a dangerous location like…the top of the Bushwell Plaza on a window washer's platform or something."

"That's…" she stopped. "Well…actually…" I could see her eyes light up a little. "Uh…I'll see you later Fredbag." She started to close the door.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"You aren't actually going to do the video from a window washer's platform, are you? That's really dangerous Sam. It doesn't matter how cool and original it would be, or how it would probably win you and Fleck the iShorts competition."

"Please, like I'd ever listen to your nubby ideas or advice."

"Okay. Well I guess I'd better get going."

"Like I care what you do," she said. She shut the door suddenly without a goodbye, still cradling the blue remote in her hand.

* * *

"So you're sure they'll be safe?" I whispered. We were walking down the hall on the fourteenth floor, towards the place that the platform was hanging. Carly and Dave were walking a little bit ahead of Morris and me.

"Sure!" Morris reassured. "I use it all the time and I haven't died even once."

"That's…good."

"Yep. So when is your little blonde friend going to get here? I thought she said she'd be here at eight."

"In Sam terms, eight never comes before eight-o'-five."

"Ah." We walked a few more feet until we were in front of a large window at the end of the hall. "Okay," said Morris, no longer whispering, "You all wait here. I'll take the elevator down and get the harnesses."

Everyone agreed and he left in the service elevator. Carly opened the window and we all looked down. The window washer's platform was there sure enough, and below that, a long, long drop to the street.

"Wow," said Carly. "We're so high up!"

"Yeah," Dave agreed. "I bet if I spit from up here and it hit somebody in the parking lot, it'd go right through their skull!"

"That's the boy-i-est thing I've ever heard a boy say," said Carly, though it reminded me more of Sam than any boy.

"Uh, 'scuse me?" said a voice behind us. We turned to see Dave's ex-partner Fleck and a very angry looking Sam.

"What are you doing here?" said Carly.

"What are you doing here?" Sam retorted.

"Why are you here?" said Fleck and Dave to each other.

"We're here 'cause Freddie's helping me and Carly shoot some stuff for the video we're making," Dave said.

"Out on the window washer's platform?" said Sam, looking angrier by the second.

"Yeah," said Carly. "I set it up with Morris."

"Well I asked Morris too, and he said I should meet him here tonight. Now."

"Why would he tell you to…"

"'Cause if you both asked him," I interrupted, "he probably thought you guys wanted to shoot stuff together." Obviously I had no idea about Sam, but Carly bought it. She didn't like it though.

"Well we don't," she said coldly. She and Sam stared each other down for a moment.

Suddenly Sam gasped. "Ryan Seacrest!" she shouted, pointing down the hall. Everyone turned to look, and when we turned back, Sam was on the platform, looking smug.

"Ha ha!" she taunted.

"Sam!" Carly yelled.

"You're not wearing a harness!" I said. She rocked back and forth a little as wind shook the platform. I was starting to think this was a really bad idea.

"Harnesses are for fallers!"

"GET BACK IN HERE!" Carly cried. _Please don't get hurt, please don't get hurt, please don't get hurt. _For someone who supposedly hated Sam, Carly seemed pretty worried about her ex-best friend. I was starting to freak out pretty badly myself.

"NO! Me and Fleck get to go first 'cause I'm out here and YOU'RE NOT!"

"OH YEAH?" said Carly, her anger overshadowing her previous concern. _I'll show her._ I tried to stop her, but before long, Carly was out on the platform too. It shook even more as she plopped down onto the rickety structure.

_Oh god, _I heard Carly think as she looked down at the many cars below. _Why doesn't Sam look scared? This is terrifying! I can't let her know I think that. _She forced herself to look back up and regained her composure, but I knew how scared she still was.

"GUYS!" I shouted. "GET BACK INSIDE! IT'S WAY TOO DANGEROUS TO BE OUT THERE WITHOUT A HARNESS!"

"YOU HEARD HIM!" said Sam. "GO BACK INSIDE!"

"YOU FIRST!"

"Yeah…I DON'T THINK SO!" Sam pulled a Chuckles bar out of her pocket. "I ain't going nowhere!" She took a bite of the candy. In a sudden burst of rage, Carly grabbed the chocolate out of her hand.

"GIVE ME THAT BACK!" Sam screamed, but Carly just tossed it over the edge. It landed on the pavement in a tiny explosion of chocolate and nougat. "NOOO!" Sam wailed, clearly more upset about the loss of her candy bar than the fact that she was in danger.

"I MEAN IT!" I tried again, my mother's protectiveness taking over. "BOTH OF YOU GET BACK INSIDE RIGHT NOW!"

"I'M NOT GOING BACK IN UNLESS CARLY GOES FIRST!"

"WELL I'M NOT GOING BACK IN UNTIL DAVE AND I SHOOT WHAT WE NEED FOR OUR VIDEO! NO MATTER HOW MESSY THIS WIND MAKES MY HAIR!"

"Carly!" said Dave, "It's not worth it! And you guys are friends! You shouldn't be fighting!"

"Yeah!" Fleck agreed. "Friends shouldn't fight!"

"I JUST SAID THAT!"

"WELL I THOUGHT IT BEFORE YOU SAID IT!"

"LIAR!"

Great. The last thing we needed was another set of bickering ex-friends. They started yelling at each other incoherently, and I did the only thing I could think to do to get them to stop. I stuck my index fingers in my mouth and gave them both wet willies. It may have been a bit childish and Sam-like, but it worked. They stopped their bickering immediately.

There was a sudden gust of wind, and the platform shook harder. "Man!" said Carly. "It's really windy out here!" Even as she said it the wind blew harder, and it looked as though they might be thrown to the ground at any moment. Sam reached out to grab hold of the railing for support, but her hand hit the down button instead. The platform started to lower.

"OH MY GOD! WE'RE MOVING!" said the always observant Carly.

"AND THAT'S MY FAULT?"

"YOU HIT THE BUTTON THINGY!"

"OH MAN! WHY'D I HIT THE BUTTON THINGY!"

"MAKE IT STOP!"

"HOW?"

"HIT…HIT THE RED ONE!" Carly said, pointing frantically to the button she thought would stop them from moving any further. She did, and the platform stopped. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"YOU GUYS OKAY?" I called down to them.

"I THINK SO!" Sam called back.

"But," Carly said to Sam, "how are we going to get…" Suddenly the left side of the platform dropped, taking Carly with it. Luckily, she managed to grab hold of the end of the platform and was able to stop herself from falling, dangling from the platform by her fingers.

"CARLY!" I heard my voice say, though I hadn't realized I was saying it. I was so scared, I couldn't even think straight.

"CARLY!" Sam screamed. "DON'T LET GO!"

"WHY ON _EARTH _WOULD I LET GO?"

"CARLY! DON'T LET GO!" I called, my head still dizzy with worry for my friends.

"OKAY! BUT CAN YOU GUYS GIVE ME ANY OTHER ADVICE?" She looked down at the street again and let out a terrified shriek. "I'M GONNA FALL! I'M GONNA FALL!" _I'M GONNA DIE I'M GONNA DIE I'M GONNA DIE!_

"YOU'RE NOT GONNA FALL!" Sam shouted at her.

"YES I AM! I'M SLIPPING!"

"WELL DON'T SLIP!"

"I'M NOT SLIPPING BY CHOICE! STUPID GRAVITY!"

"HANG ON!" said Sam, slowly making her way down the slanted platform. "I'M COMING TO GET YOU!"

"SAM! BE CAREFUL!" I shouted.

"THANKS FOR THE TIP!" _Because I was going to TRY to fall. What a stupid nub._

Wait. What?

"O-okay," Sam said, her voice cracking and trembling worse than a frightened teenage boy going through puberty. "Momma's coming!" she said, latching onto the side of the metal platform for dear life. "I-I'm not scared," she whimpered. _Yes I am!_

There it was again. Was that…were those Sam's thoughts I was hearing? I didn't have time to try to figure it out at the moment.

"T-This is f-fun!" Sam told herself. _NO IT'S NOT!_

I heard pounding footsteps and hysterical yelling behind me, and turned to see a lanky, brown-haired person running awkwardly towards us, a yellow rope in his hand and a sailor's hat on his head.

"SPENCER!" I shouted.

"CARLY!" he yelled. "CARLY, DON'T LET GO!"

"YEAH, WE'RE PRETTY MUCH ON THE SAME PAGE!" Carly yelled back.

"SAM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" said Spencer, seeing Sam crawling towards Carly at a snail's pace.

"JUST RELAX!" she said.

"Sam?" Carly whimpered in a tiny voice.

"HERE!" she said, letting one arm off the metal post she had been clinging to. "GRAB MY HAND!"

"I'm scared!" said Carly.

"ME TOO!" _More than I've ever been in my life. _"JUST GRAB IT!"

Carly struggled for a moment before finally taking one hand off the platform and placing it in Sam's grasp. Sam pulled, but Carly didn't budge.

"SAM, YOU'RE NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO PULL HER UP!" said Spencer.

"REALLY?" Sam retorted. _I'm NOT going to let my best friend die!_ She let out a battle cry and pulled even harder. Slowly but surely, Carly started to rise onto the platform. With one final scream, she pulled Carly all the way back up.

"SHE'S UP ON THE THING!" I cried intelligently.

"I SEE HER UP ON THE THING!" Spencer replied. "WHO'S THAT GUY?" he asked, looking toward Fleck, who'd apparently been recording the whole thing.

"FLECK!" I told him.

"NICE TO MEET YOU!"

Sam struggled to get Carly situated in a fairly safe position, but finally, Carly looked like she wasn't about to fall over the edge again.

"OKAY," said Spencer, "I'M GONNA THROW DOWN A ROPE!"

"HURRY!" Sam told him. Spencer threw down the rope, hitting Sam right on top of the head. She fell flat on her face and slid down the platform. She was only about halfway over the edge, but that didn't stop her or any of us from being scared out of our wits.

"SITUATION!" she screamed. "SITUATION! SITUATION! SITUATION!" _I'M GONNA DIE! I'M GONNA DIE I'M GONNA DIE I'M GONNA DIE! I NEVER EVEN GOT TO TELL CARLY AND SPENCER AND MELANIE AND EVEN FREDDIE HOW MUCH I…_

"SAM!" I said, though once again, it didn't feel like I was the one saying it. I guessed that this must have been what it was like to have an out-of-body experience. Even though I'd always thought I loved Carly and only recently discovered that I didn't hate Sam, I was just as scared for her as I had been for Carly.

"I-I got you!" said Carly unconvincingly, trying grabbing onto her ankles and desperately to pull her up. "I got you! I got you, I got you! I GOT YOU!" It was a good thing Carly didn't have far to pull her, because even the two feet or so that she had to pull her to get her back on the platform was clearly a struggle for her. Eventually though, she did manage to get her most of the way back up.

"OKAY!" Carly said, trying to pull Sam upright. "READY?"

"YEAH!"

"GO!" She tugged on Sam's back and eventually managed to pull her up the rest of the way.

Once she was standing up again, Sam looked up and glared at Spencer. "THANKS _SO_ MUCH!" she shouted at him.

Spencer either didn't notice her angry sarcasm or chose to ignore it. He nodded to the rope still clenched in his hands. "JUST TIE IT AROUND YOURSELVES AND WE'LL PULL YOU UP!" he said.

"OKAY!" Sam said, taking the rope and tying it around her's and Carly's waists.

"Okay guys," Spencer said, handing us the opposite end of the rope. "Grab on tight and get ready!" He peeked his head out the window. "YOU GIRLS READY?"

"PULL!" they both screamed.

"PULL!" Spencer commanded. We all did as he said. I felt like my arms were going to fall off. They probably would have if I still had the body I had before hitting puberty. I ignored the pain and kept pulling. It felt like it took an eternity, but finally, Sam and Carly were at the window. Spencer pulled Carly into the room, while I did the same with Sam. Typical Sam, she pulled out of my arms as soon as her feet touched the floor. I didn't know why, but I wasn't quite ready to let her go yet. Probably because I had been so scared for her a moment before. She and Carly both hugged Spencer, leaving me standing there alone.

"You guys okay?" Spencer asked.

"I-I think so," Carly panted.

"We're good."

"That was WAY too close!" I said, my hands still trembling slightly.

"No chiz!" said Sam.

"But…we made it," said Carly.

"Yeah," said Sam. "And neither one of us cried the whole time."

"Nope," Carly agreed. "We're brave."

"Yeah we are." They both breathed deeply, clearly trying to hold back their tears. It wasn't long before they both broke down and started crying. Spencer gently turned them towards each other and they hugged, bawling loudly in each other's arms.

Fleck and Dave looked at the girls, then at each other. Within seconds they were hugging each other while they sobbed too.

I looked at Spencer. We both shrugged and gave each other a hug.

Just then the elevator dinged and Morris stepped out. "I got the harnesses!" he said. Suddenly he noticed that everyone was hugging and that four of us were crying. "What happened?"

* * *

You could practically feel the awkward in the room.

Not surprisingly, Carly had gone to take a shower the second we got back to her apartment. I didn't know how long it was going to last, but she took a chair with her. Spencer had screamed something about leaving Gibby alone with his boat and all the watermelon and had run out of the apartment without so much as a "see you later." And since I really didn't feel like going home and getting the third degree on just where I had been all night (at least I wasn't up to it yet, though I knew I'd have to face my mom eventually), I decided to stay at the Shay's a little longer.

That left me and Sam sitting next to each other on the sofa in the Shay's living room. Now that everyone was safe and calm, I found my mind drifting back to earlier, when I could've sworn I read Sam's mind. It was only the second time it had ever happened. Well, third if it turned out that I was just crazy and Melanie wasn't real after all. Or would that make me un-crazy? I was still confused by that.

The weirdest part was, it wasn't something faint I was hearing when I heard what Sam was thinking. Usually I could hear the thoughts of everyone around me, and the further away they were, the harder they were to hear; just like regular hearing. Usually I had to concentrate to hear one person's thoughts over another's when there was more than one person in the room. But for some reason, when I could read Sam's mind, it didn't matter how far away she was. Her thoughts came to me loud and clear. Perhaps even weirder, when I could hear Sam's thoughts, I couldn't hear anyone else's. It was like no one else was there at all.

"So…" said Sam, apparently trying to relieve some of the tension in the room. "MMA?"

"Sure," I agreed. She turned the TV on and flipped to the MMA channel, which showed Jackson Colt beating the snot out of another enormous guy.

Surprisingly enough, I actually liked MMA. Sam had somehow talked me into giving it a chance a few years ago, despite my objections. I hated to admit it, but I actually thought it was kind of cool. But right then I wasn't thinking about MMA, and I don't think I could've concentrated on it even if I tried.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I hear Sam chuckle next to me. "What?" I asked.

"Just thinking," she said. "You really had me fooled for a while there."

"What do you mean?"

"'There's no way Carly would ever do anything dangerous like film from a window washer's platform!'" she said in a squeaky voice. "I can't believe I fell for that chizz."

"My voice doesn't sound like that!"

"In my head it does. And I can't believe you're mad about that. I just gave you a complement and all you care about is how I said it."

"Wait a minute. Did you just say that you gave me a complement?"

"Well yeah," she said as if it were obvious. "You lied to me. I didn't think you had it in you Benson. Maybe one day you'll almost be not a nub."

"Wow. Thanks Sam…I think."

"Yeah yeah, don't make a big deal about it. Now be quiet. The commercials just ended."

I smiled to myself and went back to my thoughts. I wondered again if maybe Sam knew I was psychic and could control whether or not I could read her thoughts. I'd first gotten that idea when I met Melanie, but when I (sort of) figured out that she actually was real (I think), I'd forgotten about it. But it did make sense. It would probably be harder for her to block out her thoughts at certain times. But how did she know I was psychic? _Did_ she know I was psychic? There was only one way to find out.

"So…" I said.

"What?"

"Well…I just…um…" I realized I had no idea what I was going to say. What should I say? _'Do you know that I'm psychic?' _There seemed to be no other way to ask a question like that, no matter how sneaky I was.

Sam rolled her eyes, giving up on me actually saying anything, and went back to watching TV. Suddenly, I had an idea. Maybe there _was _another way to find out. I couldn't _ask _Sam…but if I had a way to ask her without _actually _asking her…

"Sam?" I said.

"What do you want Nub? Can't you see I'm trying to watch…" She never got to finish her sentence as I quickly put my lips against hers. I guess I was betting on her staying in shock long enough for me to search around her mind a bit, but there was only one thing I heard before she pulled away: _WHAT THE…_

For a moment, she didn't say a word; she just stared at me with the most hateful gaze I'd ever seen. "You little _DORKWAD_!" she said finally.

"I…I…"

"Benson…" she growled, teeth barred and eyes murderous.

"Sam…NO! Please! I didn't mean…"

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" I hopped off the couch and ran to the kitchen, Sam following close behind. Unfortunately, Sam could still outrun me, despite the fact that my legs had grown much longer than hers in recent years. It wasn't long before she had me pinned against the refrigerator by my wrists, her face inches from mind and her eyes wild.

"WHAT. WAS. THAT?" she growled.

"I…I didn't mean to…"

"It sure looked like you meant to!"

"No! I mean, yes, I meant to but…"

"So you DID mean to!"

"No! Yes! I don't know!" she looked confused. I guess that was a good thing, because confusion was probably the only thing keeping me from being killed by her already. "I…it's not that I actually _wanted_ to kiss you, I just…"

"Oh, so you just thought it'd be fun to make me angry? Guess again!" From the corner of my eye, I could see her fist start to rise.

"No! I just wanted to read your mind to see if you knew that I was psychic!" As soon as the words left my mouth I snapped my jaw shut and pursed my lips. Sam lowered her fist.

"What did you just say?"

"I…uh…I said…Look! Ryan Seacrest!" I tried to wiggle free when she turned to look. The only problem was she _didn't _turn to look.

"Nice try Benson," she said, pushing my wrists even harder against the cold refrigerator door, "but that's my line." She brought her face even closer to mine, until there was only an inch or so separating us and I could feel her hot breath on my face. I gulped.

"It sounded like you just said you were psychic."

"What?" I said. "Pfft…pfft…no…" I felt a sudden pain in my right foot. "OW!"

"Now, are you going to tell me what you said? Or do I have to stomp on your other foot?"

"I think my toe is broken!"

"No one cares! Now answer the question!"

I sighed. I knew it was over. "I said…I…I wanted to see if you knew I was psychic."

I saw her eyebrows knit together, and felt her relax her grip on my wrists just a little. "You. You're psychic?"

"Yeah yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true! I can read minds. And I only kissed you because for years you've been the only person whose mind I couldn't read, except for when we kissed I could, and tonight when you were on the window washer's platform and you were afraid you were going to fall. And maybe one other time, but only if the whole Melanie thing was just some stupid prank after all. You don't believe me. There's no way you believe me. You're probably going to beat me up now, aren't you? Or are you just going to laugh in my face? Personally I'd prefer the second option…"

"Will you shut up already? I believe you! Okay?"

"Yeah, that's what I…wait. Did you just say you believe me?" She nodded her head. "But…why?"

"Because I just do!" she snapped.

I stared at her. "Who are you and what have you done with Sam?" She rolled her eyes. "You…you're Melanie aren't you?"

"No. I'm not Melanie. I'm Sam."

"No way Sam would ever believe me about anything like this! If you were Sam you'd be teasing me mercilessly right now! Or trying to kill me! Or both!"

She tackled me to the floor before I knew what was happening. "YOU ARE A STUPID, IDIOTIC, DORKY, MORONIC LITTLE NUB!" she screamed in my face. "_Now _do you believe me?" How had Carly not heard all of this racket? Then again, maybe she DID hear it and just didn't want to deal with it.

"Okay, okay! I believe you! You're Sam! Now let me go!" she released me and hopped up. I got up slowly, my back aching.

"Okay," I said. "So you're Sam. Now answer this. Why aren't you making fun of me about this?"

"I already told you. I believe you."

"But why?"

"I just do!"

"We're arguing in circles!"

"Your face is arguing in circles!"

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Your face doesn't even make any sense!"

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Look, I don't see what the big deal is. You say you're psychic. I believe you. Case closed. See ya." She started for the door.

"Uh-uh," I said, blocking her path. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Get out of my way Dork!"

"No! Sam, if it's not a big deal, why can't you just tell me? I just told you my deepest, darkest secret, and you shrug it off as if it's nothing." She just stood there, staring at me, not saying a word. "Now. All I want to know is why. Why did you believe me so easily? You already know that I can lie to you when necessary. I just kissed you, so there is a very strong possibility that I've gone insane. Why do you believe me?"

She didn't try to hurt me or run away, but she remained silent. After a nearly two-minute staring contest, I finally decided it was hopeless. "Forget it," I said and turned to leave. I was turning the doorknob and was just about to open the door, when…

"Freddie?"

I turned my head to look at her.

"Because…" she whispered, "I'm psychic too."

**AAH! So Sam is psychic too, eh? Many of you already guessed this, so good for you! But wait, didn't I already trick some of you a few chapters back into thinking Freddie could read Sam's mind when they touched and then THAT turned out to be wrong? Is this for real? Or have I tricked you yet again? You'll just have to wait and see! Mwahaha...**


	14. iWant You to Meet Someone

**Sigh, late again. My apologies. Especially since this chapter is kind of a filler chapter. But it's also kind of important too, I think. Next chapter should be more exciting, and since I'm FINALLY done with my English III term paper, MAYBE it will be up on time? Maybe? I hope? I'll try anyway. Please don't burn me at the stake if it doesn't happen.**

**Disclaimer: Je ne possède pas iCarly. (And I don't speak French either, but Google does). Je n'ai pas Google soit propre.**

I don't know how long I was standing there, staring into space, completely unaware of everything around me. All I could think about were those three words that had just come out of Sam's mouth.

_"I'm psychic too."_

In all the years I'd known Sam, and with all the time I'd spent trying to figure out why on Earth I couldn't read her mind, that was the one thing that I hadn't thought of. Stubborn girl? Yes. Evil genius? Of course. But fellow psychic? It had never even crossed my mind as a possibility. I wondered what kind of psychic she was. Did she have telepathy like me? Clairvoyance like Moira? Maybe she was that other kind of psychic Moira sometimes talked about. The ones who could move things with their minds. What was that power called again? Telekansas? Telekisis? Tele…

I was snapped out of my reverie when I felt my cheek begin to sting very badly all of a sudden. I looked up to see a pair of irritated looking blue eyes and a hand raised dangerously close to my face.

"Sam!" I said. "Why did you slap me?"

"It was the only thing I could think of!" she defended. "I've been saying your name for nearly three minutes and you wouldn't respond!"

"So you _slapped _me?"

"Well what was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, poke me or something? Something more gentle than slapping me across the face!"

"In case you haven't noticed Benson, I don't do gentle."

"Clearly!" I rubbed my sore face gingerly. "My cheek still stings!"

"Quit being a big baby. Just be glad it wasn't your butt cheek."

"Wow, now I feel really lucky," I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

She eyed me suspiciously, but then just shrugged. "Whatever. I'm leaving now."

"Wait!" I said, grabbing her wrist. "Where are you going? I thought you were sleeping at Carly's tonight."

"Well I _was, _but I don't really feel like it so much anymore. I'm going home." She tried to leave but I refused to let go. "Let me go!"

"Sam, it's nearly ten o'clock at night and you just had a near-death experience! Don't you think walking around the city alone at night might be pushing your luck?"

"I'll be _fine_. Now if you'll excuse me…"

"Sam, I nearly lost you once today. I'm not willing to risk it again so soon."

"You sound like a character from one of those cheesy chick-flicks."

"Sam…please stay. Please."

She stared at me skeptically for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she sighed. "Alright. I'll stay. But you'd better not bug me." I let go of her wrist and she walked to the couch, plopped herself down onto the cushions, and resumed watching TV. I sat down in the big, comfy chair sitting next to the couch.

"So…" I said carefully. "Psychic, huh?"

"Yep," she replied, sounding bored.

"What…what kind of psychic?"

She looked at me curiously. "There's more than one kind?"

"Yeah. There's telepathy, the ability to read minds; clairvoyance, the ability to see the future; and telek…um, the ability to move objects with your mind. I have telepathy. And you have…"

She groaned. "Figures I'd get stuck with the same dopey power as you. There are really people who can move stuff around without touching it? Why couldn't I have gotten _that _power? I'd never have to walk again!"

"So you're saying you have telepathy too?"

"No Bird Brain, I'm saying that on Thursdays I like to dress up in a sombrero and throw rocks at squirrels. Yes I'm saying I have telepathy!"

"Oh." She went back to watching TV and I occupied my time by staring at the coffee table. "Do you really do that on Thursdays?"

"No!"

"Okay, just making sure."

She rolled her eyes. "Jeez, and _you're _the smart one."

I ignored her comment. "So does it work on me?"

"Does what work on you?"

"Your telepathy. Does it work on me? Can you read my mind?"

"Only on those same times that you listed. Tonight when I was falling off the window washer's platform and…" Her voice trailed off, as if she didn't want to even think about the other time.

"When we kissed?" I said. She nodded curtly and once again resumed staring at the MMA fight on the television.

I didn't know how she could just watch TV and not think about everything that had happened that night. I couldn't concentrate on anything but that night even before I learned Sam was psychic, and now my mind was only racing faster. Her being psychic had to have something to do with the fact that we couldn't read each other's minds, but what? And how had we managed to find each other in the first place? I had been surprised enough when I met Moira, but _another _psychic? And one who was _my _age and had _my _same power? What were the odds?

That's when it hit me. Somewhere, buried deep in the back of my brain, was a vague memory of a conversation Moira and I once had.

"_Hey Moira, do you ever think it's weird that we both have powers and we found each other?"_

"_No, people with powers tend to have that effect. Something always draws them together. It's like the Universe's way of making sure we don't have to deal with these things alone."_

Suddenly I shot out of my seat, making Sam look at me like I was a crazy person. I grabbed her wrist again and pulled her off of the couch, running towards the door.

"What's your problem, Benson?" she said, struggling to free herself.

"We have to talk to Moira," I said.

"Who?"

"Another psychic. Clairvoyant actually. She'll know what to do."

"What to do about what exactly?" she said as I pulled her through the door.

"Everything!"

"Well that's not vague at all."

"Mom!" I said as I opened my apartment door. "I'm going over to Moira's!"

"Freddie!" I heard my mom call from somewhere in the apartment. She rushed into the living room. "Where have you been all night? And why is that delinquent with you? You'd better have a good explanation Mister!" _I knew that blonde trouble maker was a bad influence on him!_

"Sorry Mom," I said. "No time. I have to go to Moira's now. I'll explain everything later." I closed the door before my mom could tell me to make sure I remembered to watch out for hobos and look both ways before crossing the hall.

"How do you know this Mira person anyway?" Sam asked as we continued down the hall.

"Moira. Old family friend. We met her when we moved here when I was six years old, right after my dad died. She helped to comfort my mom, and they've been friends ever since."

"You mean Crazy is actually capable of making friends?"

"Sam!"

"Okay, sorry. Sheesh."

We arrived in front of Moira's door. I opened the door and turned on the light to find…nothing. The apartment was empty.

"She's still not back?" I said to myself. "She's been gone since last Saturday."

"Where'd she go?"

"I don't know. I just came here last week to talk to her and I found this." I went to the table and handed her the note that said Moira had to go somewhere that day. She looked over the note quickly.

"How'd she know you'd be looking for her?"

"She can see into the future, remember?"

"But she wasn't even here to see you. How could she have seen something in the future that she was never going to see?"

"I don't know. Maybe we are going to have a conversation about it later."

"And you said this person is an old friend?"

"Yeah…why?"

"If she's such a good friend, why didn't she tell you she was leaving? Or for that matter, _where _she was going?"

"Sam, I know what you're getting at, but trust me, Moira's not some criminal on the run or anything like that. She's my mom's best friend. And besides that, I've read her mind. I know what she thinks about. If I can trust anyone, it's her."

"Then why is this note stained with blood?"

"WHAT?"

"Gotcha!" Sam howled, handing me the clean, blood-free note. "You should have seen your face!"

"Ha ha. You're hilarious."

"I know. It's a gift. Now let's go."

"Go where?"

"Back to Carly's. Or even better, I'll go back to Carly's and you go back to your own nerd cave. There's no reason to hang around if Myrna isn't even here."

"Moira."

"Like it matters." She started to leave, and I was going to let her, when suddenly, something caught my eye. It was the note still clenched in my hand. It looked like there were more words on it, overlapping the ones already there. The new words were very faint, and I could only see them when I was standing directly under the overhead light. I turned the note over and confirmed my suspicions.

"Wait!" I said, and ran to catch Sam right as she was walking through the doorway.

"Dude, you've got to quit grabbing my wrist like that!"

"Sam, look at the back of the note." Her eyebrows knit together and she came closer. She looked over my shoulder and we both read the message written on the back of the first note.

"_Dear Freddie and Sam, _

_Sorry I'm still not home. I'll be there in just a few minutes, if you're willing to wait a bit._

_-Moira"_

Sam and I looked at each other. "That's just creepy," said Sam.

I rolled my eyes. "So will you stay and wait for a little while?"

"Is there a TV here?"

"No."

"See ya."

"Sam!" I reached out and…

"Don't you dare grab my wrist again," she seethed.

I gulped. "Yes ma'am. But will you please stay? It's important to me."

She appeared to think about it for a moment. "Fine," she said, sitting down on the living room couch. "But this Mona chick better not be a loser."

I rolled my eyes and sat down next to her. She put her feet in my lap and rested her head on the couch's arm. "So, you said your dad died when you were six?"

I was a little taken aback at her incredibly blunt question. "Um…yeah…" I said. It was all I could think of to say.

"How'd he die?" Her bored tone was not well hidden, and it was clear that she never intended for it to be. It was as if she was asking me to pass the salt.

"Car accident. My mom hasn't been the same since."

"So that's why she's crazy?"

I nodded. "That's why. After it happened, she became super protective of me. I was all she had left, and she didn't want to lose me too. We moved to the Bushwell shortly after because we couldn't afford the house we'd been living in on only my mom's income. That's when we met Moira. Her husband had died a few years before, and she helped my mom get through it. It wasn't long before I figured out that she was psychic too."

"How'd you figure it out?"

"I read her mind at the same time that she was seeing into the future. She was thinking about my mom having one of her cleaning spells…that's when she gets really upset about my dad and cleans everything in the house. The thing was, it was the first time she and my mom had ever met, and she shouldn't have known about the cleaning spells yet."

"Wait, so you can read Marla's mind but not mine?"

"Yep. I guess it's because we have the same power. Moira's power is different."

Sam nodded. All was quiet for a moment, but then Sam spoke up again. "My dad left when I was four," she said.

I knew Sam's dad wasn't in the picture, but this was the first time she'd ever actually mentioned him. I looked at her, but she wouldn't look at me, instead choosing to take a sudden interest in the couch pattern. She looked like she was trying to hide the fact that she was upset. "I'm sorry Sam," I whispered.

"Don't be," she scoffed. "He was an asshole. Hard to believe that my mom is actually the good parent, huh?" She finally looked at me, and her eyes were sad, like they might spill over with tears at any moment. But I knew that wouldn't happen. Sam Puckett would never let me see her cry. I reached out and placed my hand lightly on top of hers. Surprisingly, she didn't object.

The door opened suddenly, and a silver-haired woman entered the apartment, dragging two large suitcases behind her. She stopped when she saw us, and gave us both a smile that looked kind of sad. "Hello Freddie," she said. I stood up to give her a hug, and when I let go, I noticed her lavender eyes staring at my blonde friend, who'd pulled herself up into a sitting position. "Hello Sam."

"You're Martha?"

Moira chuckled. "Something like that. Can I get either of you anything? I'm going to make a cup of tea for myself."

"Decaf tea would be great," I said.

"Coming right up. Sam?"

"You got any ham?"

"No ham, but I think I have some sliced turkey."

"Eh, it'll do," said Sam.

"Two teas and some sliced turkey," Moira repeated. "Got it. Make yourselves comfortable anywhere."

"Way ahead of you," said Sam, slouching back against the armrest and putting her feet up again. She was soon greeted by a package of sliced deli turkey. I decided to stand, not wanting to have to move Sam's feet to sit on the couch. I reached for a slice of turkey and got a punch in the arm, but Sam let me have some of the meat anyway.

"So," said Moira, setting down two cups and filling both with hot water and tea bags. "What brings you by?" she asked.

"I thought you said she could see the future," said Sam. "Shouldn't she already know why we're here?"

"She does already know," I explained. "But she has to ask anyway. If she doesn't ask, there's nothing for her to see."

"Well that's dumb," she said, picking up another slice of turkey and dropping it into her mouth.

"Well, you see," I said, ignoring (or at least trying to ignore) Sam's rudeness, "Sam and I…we kind of figured out that…well I told Sam…"

"Fredhead knows I'm psychic and I know he is too," Sam said.

"I was getting to that!"

"Well you were taking too long!"

"Must you be so impatient?"

"Must you be such a nerd?"

"I'm not a nerd!"

"Yes you are!"

"So? That doesn't give you license to just…"

"Enough!" Moira shouted. We stopped immediately. Moira almost never yelled, but when she did, everyone knew she meant business. "Okay, so you know you're both psychic. What else do you want to know exactly?"

"Well…I just thought…I thought that maybe since I'd figured it out, you could finally explain some things. Like…well I don't know. It just seemed like you would have something to say about this."

Moira chuckled. "Figured it out? Freddie, if you had this figured out at all, you wouldn't need to see me."

"So you can tell me something else about all this?" I asked.

She sighed and grabbed two chairs from the kitchen, setting them both near the couch and taking a seat in one of them. "Sit down," she told me. "It's time you and Sam knew some things about each other."


	15. iSee the Past

**Nothing much to say, except that this chapter is on time, it's not very long…and it's a doozy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. But I DO own a cat named Edgar who likes to eat toilet paper and Mexican food, and that's just as awesome.**

The room was silent for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it was probably less than a minute, but when you know you're about to find out something about your life that you've been trying to figure out for five years, each second can feel like a year. Moira still looked a little distraught, and her mind was racing so fast that I could only decipher a few words here and there.

"Well," Moira finally said. Usually she was so calm and self-assured, but now she just looked worried as she stared out the window, her lips pursed tightly. "Where do I begin?" Her voice trembled a little.

"Moira," I said carefully, "Are you alright?"

Her eyes snapped up suddenly. "Yeah. I'm…I'm fine." _Oh, who am I kidding? Okay, so I'm feeling a little down._

"What's wrong?"

"It doesn't matter," Moira insisted. "It has nothing to do with you."_ Kind of._

"Kind of?" Sam asked. I was a little startled by her voice. I'd almost forgotten she was even there.

Moira sighed. _The reason I've been gone…I've been in Boston…for my sister's funeral._

My heart skipped a beat when I heard that. "Moira, I…I'm so sorry." I leaned over and gave her a quick hug. "How'd it happen?"

"Oh, old age. She was twelve years older than me, and let's face it, I'm no spring chicken myself. But it still hurt. She was the kind of person who could make you forget all your troubles in an instant. If it weren't for her, I don't know how I would've gotten through all that happened with Ka…" She stopped herself suddenly and started thinking about the wall color.

"All that happened with who?" Sam asked.

"Whom," I corrected. Sam stared at me incredulously before slapping me in the back of the head. "Ow! Sam! But really Moira, what were you about to say?"

_It doesn't concern either of you._

"Oh, come on Mara," said Sam. "Just tell us. We're going to find out sooner or later." Moira stayed silent for a moment before finally giving in with a heavy sigh.

"When I was young, I had two best friends. Kate Browning and Henry Garrison. Kate was your classic tough girl. She always loved breaking rules and getting into mischief. How she and I became friends, I'm still not sure. I was always a bit of a goody-two-shoes myself, though after Kate and I had been friends for several years, I started to loosen up a little. Henry, on the other hand, was a very nice boy. Kind of quiet and nerdy, but quite the gentleman. I loved them both…but there was one problem. They couldn't stand each other.

"We were about fourteen when we figured out that we all had psychic powers. None of us had the advantage that you two have of being able to read minds. I only had clairvoyance. Kate and Henry were telekinetic."

"That's what that power is called!" I exclaimed. Sam and Moira stared at me. "Sorry," I said, embarrassed. "I won't interrupt again."

"Anyway," Moira started again, "I'd always wanted to find out more about my powers, but I was afraid to investigate alone. I felt like some sort of freaky misfit. Apparently, Henry and Kate felt the same way about themselves. When we finally all figured out about each other's powers, we decided to see if we could find a wise, old psychic who could help explain some things to us. We searched all over Boston for someone with real psychic powers, but only turned up phonies. Finally, after nearly a month of searching, we finally found one…

* * *

"_Are you sure this is the place?"_

"_Positive," said the sandy-haired boy, glancing from the phone book clutched in his hands to the rusty three-digit number nailed to the tall wooden house looming before them. "Madame Gertrude McCraw, 314 Medium Street. It's definitely the place." The three teenagers looked at each other briefly to confirm that it was time, and started towards the front door._

"_Hello?" the red-haired girl called, slowly pushing open the creaky, wooden door. "Madame Gertrude? Anyone home?"_

"_Okay, looks like no one's here," said the boy. "I guess we'll just have to leave this creepy house and go back home now. Darn."_

"_Don't be such a square, Henrietta," said the other girl, tucking a strand of frizzy, black hair behind her ear. "Why don't you toughen up and be a man for once in your life?"_

"_I am a man!"_

"_Sure you are. You just keep telling yourself that."_

"_Kate! I swear…"_

"_Will you two please just stop arguing for two seconds?" their friend scolded, her lavender eyes harsh._

"_Sorry Moira," they said in unison._

"_Thank you. Now, I think it would be best if we stuck together. This house is really big and we don't want to risk…"_

"_WHO'S THERE?"boomed an ominous voice, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The three friends huddled together, trembling in fear. The dark-haired girl realized that she and the boy were practically hugging and pushed him away forcefully._

"_Look," she yelled at the ceiling, guessing that it was the place the voice was coming from. "We're just three teenagers who were hoping you could tell us something about our psychic powers. So if you're a real psychic, cut the scary voice routine and talk to us. Otherwise, there are other psychics we can and will take our business to."_

"_FOOLISH CHILDREN! THERE __ARE__ NO OTHER PSYCHICS FOR YOU TO GO TO! AND AT LEAST ONE OF YOU IS LYING ABOUT YOUR POWERS!"_

"_Hey! No one calls me or any of my friends a liar! And Henry's not lying either. He's too much of a square for that."_

"_Gee, thanks Kate."_

"_Anytime."_

"_THERE CANNOT BE FOUR! I AM PSYCHIC! THERE CAN ONLY BE TWO MORE!"_

"_Now listen…"_

_Moira reached out and took hold of her friend's shoulder to keep her from doing anything drastic. _"_Forget it Kate. Let's go home. She's probably just another fake anyway."_

"_YOU DARE CALL MADAME GERTRUDE A FAKE!" Suddenly, a door-sized panel slid out of the wall. "I AM THE MOST POWERFUL PSYCHIC of the last millennium!" The voice became less powerful and more human as a shadowed figure made its way toward the opening in the wall. "I am power! I am strength! I am Madame Gertrude!" The woman stepped out of the shadows and into the hallway. Her face was withered and old, and behind thick, round glasses gleamed two bright, beady yellow eyes. She would've been really scary…had she been more than about three and a half feet tall._

_Kate was the first to start laughing. Actually, she was the only one to start laughing. "Look at her! She's so tiny! And what's up with those ginormous glasses? Powerful psychic? More like puny elf!"_

_Madame Gertrude did not look amused. Her hawk-like eyes bore into the young girl, while the girl's friends stayed quiet, looking nervous. "Kathryn Browning," she said. "I suggest you not mock the only person who might be able to help you."_

_Kate stopped laughing. "How do you know my name?" Normally, if anyone had called her Kathryn, she would have broken their finger. But she was too dumbfounded to even think to do anything like that at the time._

"_As I have said, I am the most powerful psychic of the last millennium. I can see past your foremost thoughts and look deep into your soul. My powers of telepathy far exceed those of the average telepathist. And I'm sure you know that we telepathists are the most powerful kind of psychics."_

"_Are you calling my power weak?"_

"_Yes, Kathryn. I am."_

"_Why I oughta…" This time both Moira and Henry held their friend back._

"_Wait," said Moira, "So you do believe that she's psychic?"_

"_Child, have I not already said that I can see into your souls? Of course, as soon as I saw the three of you, I knew you were telling the truth. I am…"_

"_Yeah yeah," said Kate, clearly bored. "Madame Gertrude, the most powerful psychic of the last millennium. We get it."_

_Madame Gertrude narrowed her beady eyes. "Do you want my help or not?"_

"_We do," Moira said before Kate could make matters worse._

_The old woman studied the teenagers for a moment. "Wait here," she said firmly. And with that she disappeared back into the mysterious black room hidden in the wall. She reemerged a moment later carrying the biggest book any of them had ever seen. It was over a foot long and nearly twice as thick as an unabridged dictionary. The old woman struggled a little under the weight of the enormous book, but it was really amazing that she could carry it at all._

"_Follow me," she instructed, barely glancing at the wide-eyed teens. They did as she said and were led down the hall into what appeared to be a living room. A very creepy living room. The lighting was dim, just like it had been in the hallway, but there were things in this room much worse than the hall's rickety floorboards and occasional secret panel. The walls were covered in old cobwebs and not-so-old spider webs, and the room reeked with a smell somewhere between stale cigarettes and decaying flesh. "Sit," Madame Gertrude commanded as she dropped the book on a small coffee table that looked like it shouldn't be able to support the weight, causing a great deal of dust to spill off of its ancient leather cover._

_The kids took a seat on the dusty velvet couch, deciding it was probably best to do as they were told and ignore the desire to remain standing. Meanwhile, the old woman was busily flipping through the book. Page after page of charts and diagrams went by, and occasionally they could glimpse a page well enough before it was flipped to see that all of the information on each page was about psychic powers. Finally, about halfway through the book, she stopped. They all looked at the page. It was blank._

"_You," said Madame Gertrude, pointing a bony finger at the frightened red-head. "Look at this book and tell me what you see."_

"_I see nothing," Moira said. "The page is empty."_

"_No! Do not simply look at the page. LOOK at the page. Think about what the page will look like tomorrow, and the day after, and a week after, and so on until you can see. You are clairvoyant, are you not?"_

_Moira nodded, but didn't take her eyes off the page. She concentrated for several minutes, not even braking concentration to blink. Her eyes started moving back and forth across the page, as though reading, and her mouth drew into a tight line._

_Finally she did blink, and her eyes shot up towards the elderly psychic. "It says that between the end of the second millennium and the beginning of the third there will be three pairs of psychics. Two people who are telekinetic, two who are clairvoyant, and two who are telepathic."_

"_So?" said Kate. "What's the big deal?"_

"_The big deal," Madame Gertrude said condescendingly, "is that there is never to be more than one psychic for each of the three types living at the same time."_

"_But…" Henry said, "Kate and I are both telekinetic."_

"_That is exactly the point, you ignorant child! There is not supposed to be two of you!" She glanced over at the clairvoyant girl, whose eyes were currently fixed to the floor. "Tell them what else it said."_

"_I-it said that when two people with the same power meet…the connection between them is strong. Usually too strong. Sometimes it causes them to fall in love with each other…"_

"_Gross!" Kate exclaimed. "Like I'd ever fall in love with Henrietta!"_

"_Must you call me by a girl's name?"_

"_Yes!"_

"_Moira." The girl flinched a little when the old woman said her name. "You are not done yet. Tell your friends what else the book said."_

_Moira took a deep breath as she looked back and forth between her two friends. "It said…it said that psychics of the same power are destined either to fall in love, or…to destroy each other."_

* * *

"…It was several years before I realized that I was one of the clairvoyants the book mentioned. I met Artie at college here in Seattle, and we were engaged to be married before I finally realized he was clairvoyant too. I kept wondering why I never had visions of him, but then I remembered about psychic block.

"The book had said that one of the reasons psychics of the same power were so closely linked was that their powers didn't work well on each other. Only in times of great closeness, such as a first kiss, or great worry, such as fearing for the other's life, could the powers break the barriers. It's like when you toss someone a baseball. They can catch it and toss it back to you. But if you both toss each other a baseball, and the baseballs collide, they simply bounce off of each other. But say these baseballs are thrown with such force that when hit, they split into dozens of pieces and make it to their target anyway. That's how your powers work, and to some extent, how mine work too.

"Anyway, I eventually put two and two together and realized that Artie was clairvoyant. Poor Artie never did figure it out completely, even when I explained it to him. I loved my husband, but…let's just say he didn't think quite like everyone else. And he had a horrid dislike for wearing a shirt." The corner of her mouth tugged upward ever so slightly at the memory of her chubby husband taking off his shirt in a fancy restaurant. "But I loved him, and I still miss him."

"Did the book say which pairs would fall in love and which would…um…destroy each other?" I asked.

Moira shook her head. "And I couldn't simply see it either. I guess since both Artie and I were part of the prophecy, it tied in with the psychic block thing too."

"Prophecy? But I thought you were just seeing into the future."

"That's what a prophecy is. For ages clairvoyants have been looking into the future and creating prophecies out of what they saw."

"Aren't prophecies wrong sometimes?" Sam asked.

"The fake ones often are. As for the real ones…well it hasn't happened yet, but I suppose anything is possible. Now," she said. "It's getting late. You two had better get home. I don't know about Sam's mother, but I'm sure Marissa is a nervous wreck. But before you go…" She got up from her seat and walked towards her bookshelf, moving a row of novels aside and revealing an ancient leather-bound book with no title. She came back towards us and handed me the book, which was surprisingly much lighter than it looked. "Take this. It has just about everything you could ever need to know about psychic powers."

"Except telling us whether or not Sam and I are going to fall in love or kill each other."

"Yeah," Moira nodded. "Everything but that." She must've noticed the worried look on my face, because she laid a hand gently on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. "You'll be okay." _I hope._

The last part didn't do much for my confidence. I slowly got up from my chair and made my way across the room to the door. Sam had already opened the door and stood waiting for me in the hallway. I was stepping across the threshold when I suddenly remembered that there was another question that I'd meant to ask.

"Moira?" I said.

"Yes?"

"What ever happened to Henry and Kate? Did they end up falling in love after all?"

Moira sighed and I could tell that she was trying really hard not to let any tears slip from her eyes. "No Freddie. I'm afraid they didn't."


	16. iAgree

**Sorry I didn't update last week guys. I was kind of busy. But now I'm on spring break! That means a whole week of relaxing. I definitely need it.**

**Another thing, I know this story is rated K-plus, but this chapter MAY be a little bit T. A little. Just thought I'd warn you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, but if I did, Gibby would definitely be a REAL mermaid.**

I opened the door to apartment 8C and cautiously peeked in. The blonde-headed demon was there, just as she said she would be, and Carly was nowhere in sight. Sam was sitting upside down on Carly's couch with her feet in the air and her hair spilling down the couch's front, collecting in a golden pool on the floor. Her eyes were closed and her head was bobbing up and down to the heavy metal music emanating from her skull-shaped earbuds. The music was turned up so loud that I could hear every word to the song she was listening to. Every once in a while she would take a break from mouthing the words to the song and take a bite of the Fatcake clenched in her fist.

"Sam," I said.

She didn't respond.

"Sam!"

Again, no response.

I thought for a moment. "Sam, there's a police officer at the door! He says he's going to take you to jail where you'll never be allowed to eat bacon again!"

Nothing.

Darn, I really thought that one would work. I set the book I was holding down on the coffee table and, taking a deep breath, quickly snatched Sam's earbuds out of her ears. Her eyes snapped open suddenly.

"Hey!" she shouted. "I was listening to that!"

"Too bad," I said, setting the headphones down and praying that she wasn't about to kill me. "I already told you I needed to talk to you. Did you send Carly somewhere?"

"Yeah yeah." She pushed herself up and turned around so she was sitting right-side-up with her legs crossed underneath her. "I told her I needed some jelly doughnuts. She's at Holy-O's right now. And I just happen to know that Holy-O's always runs out of jelly doughnuts before noon and that they won't be making any more for another…" she checked the clock on her phone, "twenty minutes."

"Good." I sat down next to her on the sofa and pulled the giant book into my lap. "I've been looking through the psychic book Moira gave me and I think I've figured some stuff out."

"Shoot."

"Well," I said, opening the book and leafing through a few pages, "for starters, I noticed that the entire book is hand-written."

"Well no chizz. Even I can see that."

"But look at what else I noticed," I said, choosing to brush off her rude comment. "Every few pages, the handwriting changes. It's like a psychic journal that different people just keep adding to."

"Fascinating," she said, though she sounded like she thought it was the complete opposite of fascinating.

"And look at this." I flipped to a page about halfway through the book. "This entry talks about the prophecy of the three pairs of psychics. This must be the one that Moira saw in her vision. It's in Moira's handwriting."

"Does it say anything we didn't already know?"

"Well…no. It basically just says everything she told us, but it does go into a bit more depth about things like psychic block and how they work. And look at this." I turned to the next page. "This page appears to have been written over a long period of time. It tells the outcome of the clairvoyants, Moira and Arthur. It pretty much just says that they fell in love, had a happy marriage but no children, and that Artie died of pneumonia at age fifty-six." I slid my finger to the right until it was resting on the next page. "And this page, also written in Moira's handwriting, tells about the telekinetists, Kathryn and Henry…and how they died."

"Oh." Sam looked down at her shoes. "What about the next page?"

I turned the page again to show her the empty piece of paper. "Blank. The page before was the last entry."

"Is that all you noticed?"

I hesitated for a moment. "No. There was this one thing that was weird…"

"One thing that was weird? What part of all this isn't weird?"

"Point taken. But this was _really_ weird. I was studying these pages for a long time. A _really _long time. And after a while, I started to notice something strange. I could see the things that happened in the book. Not just read them, but _see_ them, exactly how they happened. It was like last night, when Moira was telling us that story about going to Madame Gertrude's house and it was like we were really there…or at least it was for me. Did you see it?"

She nodded. "It was like watching a movie. I could really see into her head. Usually I can only hear people's thoughts, but last night I could see them too. That's only happened to me a few other times before."

"Well this book appears to do the same thing. It's like there's some psychic energy coming from the book itself. Like it's…alive."

"So," said Sam. "Did you see…well…you know." She turned back to the previous page.

"Not yet," I said.

Sam looked the book, then at me. I nodded, somehow understanding the unspoken agreement we'd just made. We both looked at the page and started reading.

* * *

_A brown leaf fell from the tall oak tree, breaking the smoothness of the glasslike lake below. Another leaf fell, doing the same. Then another. Then another. The girl who was scaling up the tree's branches and causing the leaves to fall looked like she really couldn't care less. All she cared about was her destination: the highest branch in the tree that was still sturdy enough to support a person's weight, or even the weight of two people, if necessary. When she was younger, she often came to the branch when she needed to think. She hadn't been there in years, but it was the only place she could think to go at the time._

_She had just reached her branch and plopped herself down onto the fat end that was closest to the trunk when she heard footsteps. "Oh great," she mumbled as she saw a patch of sand-colored hair appear underneath the tree. The boy, who was really no longer a boy at all, shielded his eyes and looked up at her._

"_What are you doing up there?" he called to her._

"_Go away Henry," she replied coldly._

"_Henry? No Henrietta? No Square?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Come on Kate. Come down and talk to me. Please?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Is that all you're going to say to me now? 'Nope?'"_

"_Yep."_

_The boy sighed. "Well if you're not coming down, I'm coming up." He began to climb up the tree, but slowly and with much difficulty. He had never been as athletic as she was. __He finally reached the branch, but couldn't climb onto it. "Could you at least move over so I have some room to get on the branch too?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Kate, please."_

_She turned her head to face him. He only got a brief look at her puffy, red eyes before she turned away again and reluctantly scooted over a couple of feet, her face downcast and scowling._

"_Thanks," he said as he pulled himself up onto the branch and sat down with one leg pulled to his chest and the other dangling over the edge. "Gosh, we haven't been here together since we were kids."_

_Kate didn't say anything._

"_I remember when I first started coming here with you. We were thirteen, and it was right after your dad died. You ran away after the funeral and I found you in this tree, all alone. You said your dad used to take you here when you were little. It was your special place, and now that he was dead, you didn't want anyone else to be here…but for some reason, you decided to let me stay."_

_The now nineteen-year-old woman remained silent. She just kept staring at the sinking sun and the reflections in the water below._

"_Kate, look. I know you probably don't believe me, but I really am sorry. I didn't mean what I said."_

"_Well you're right about one thing." The boy perked up a little. "I don't believe you."_

"_I understand," he said, though he looked pretty disappointed. "I'd be mad at me too."_

"_Mad? Mad doesn't even begin to describe it Garrison."_

"_I…I'm sorry. I don't know what else you want me to say."_

"_How about you don't say anything and you leave me the hell alone? How's that?"_

"_Why? What are you so afraid of? You insult me and put me down all the time without a second thought, but the one time I say something back, you decide you never want to see me again."_

_She turned to face him, eyes angrier than he'd ever seen them before. "Nothing I ever said to you was anywhere near as bad as what you said to me."_

"_Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard. I was angry! I didn't mean it."_

_She looked back towards the water. "My dad used to say 'We always mean everything we say. We just don't always mean to say it.'"_

"_Well this time your dad was wrong. I don't hate you Kate. I don't. I was just angry."_

"_You said you hated me. You said you'd be happy if you never saw me again. You said no one would ever love me. You said it, Henry. Whether you think you meant it or not, you said it. And no matter how many times you apologize, you can't take it back."_

"_Why not? One little mistake. I said one thing wrong, just one, and you just can't let it go! After all the times I forgave you for how you treated me, you can't forgive me even once! Well I've got news for you. If you're really so stubborn that you can't forgive anyone, then…then maybe I was right about what I said after all!"_

_She scoffed. "I knew it. I knew you were lying through your teeth with the whole apology crap."_

"_What ever happened to people always meaning everything they said?"_

"_What ever happened to 'I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean it?'"_

"_What ever happened to…"_

"_Stop!" Kate yelled. She closed her eyes tightly and lowered her voice to barely more than a whisper. "Go away Henry." He started to protest, but she interrupted him again. "Just…go."_

_Henry said silent for a moment before shaking his head. "No. I'm not leaving until you forgive me."_

"_Fine." She stood up and started walking back across the branch. "Then I'll leave." She started to climb over him but he stood up, blocking her path. "Get out of my way!" He crossed his arms and remained standing._

"_I'm not leaving, and neither are you."_

"_Move!" she yelled._

"_No!"_

"_I said MOVE!" She pushed her hands against his chest in an attempt to push him back towards the tree trunk, but instead, she lost her balance and slipped off the branch. She was able to catch herself on a lower branch, but she was hanging on by her fingertips and slipping fast._

"_Kate!" Henry called. He reached down to grab her hand, but she was much too far away. "Kate, are you alright?"_

"_Do I look alright to you? Get me down from here! I can't swim!"_

"_Okay, just uh…oh, I know! I'll use telekinesis to move you to the ground!"_

"_Are you crazy? You know our powers don't work when we're around each other!"_

"_Except when our emotions are strong! The book said that when one of us is afraid for the other's life, psychic block is undone!"_

"_But how do you know it will work?"_

"_I don't!"_

"_That's so reassuring!"_

"_Here, just…hang on and let me see if I can lift you up any." He focused his powers on the girl, and sure enough, she slowly started to lift upwards._

"_It's working!" she called._

"_Good! Now let go of the branch!"_

"_What? No!"_

"_Kate, if you don't let go of the branch, I can't move you any farther. Just let go. I've got you."_

_She looked into his eyes and saw the fear in them. Fear for her. She hesitated for a moment, then slowly let go. She was relieved to see that she hovered in the air instead of falling into the lake._

"_Okay," said Henry, clearly straining under the weight of keeping her floating in midair. "Now I'm just going to move you away from the lake and then I'll set you down."_

"_Well hurry!"_

"_I'm trying! You're heavy!"_

"_Well you're weak! And stupid to top it all off! It's all your fault I'm in this mess in the first place!"_

_A dark look flashed in the boy's green eyes, and he could feel himself losing his psychic connection. He watched the girl as she screamed and tumbled downward, finally crashing onto the surface of the lake._

_As soon as he saw the girl's head disappear under the water, he realized what he had done. He tried to gain the connection back and pull her back up, but he couldn't even see her, much less control her body through telekinesis. With a deep breath, he dived into the water._

_He spotted her almost immediately. She was conscious, but sinking. He swam after her and caught her in his arms, but then started to feel himself sinking too. He remembered that there was another emotion that was strong enough to break psychic block._

_Pure hatred. And at that moment, Kate hated him. _

_He struggled to float back up, but to no avail. Kate and Henry sunk to the bottom of the lake, still wrapped in each other's arms._

* * *

"I'm back!" Freddie closed the old book as quickly as he could and shoved it under the couch. "Sorry it took so long," Carly said, walking into her living room and setting the bag of doughnuts down on the coffee table. "They were all out of jelly doughnuts and I had to wait for them to make some more. Hey Freddie, when did you get here?"

"Uh…just a few minutes ago. I um…I came to update the website."

"Why didn't you just do that from your laptop at home?"

"It's…broken."

"What? How'd that happen?"

"Well, Sam decided to…"

"Well that explains it," said Carly rolling her eyes. "Sam, you really need to stop breaking Freddie's stuff. "

"Yeah, not gonna happen," said Sam, just before shoving a jelly doughnut in her mouth.

Carly smiled and shook her head. _Oh Sam._ "So I guess you're finished?" she asked me.

"Finished with what?"

"Finished updating the website. The computer is over there but you're just sitting on the couch talking to Sam. Wait, why are you sitting on the couch talking to Sam?"

"Oh, um…well I finished with the website, and…I heard there were going to be doughnuts…so I decided to stay. You know how I love jelly doughnuts."

"But the other day you said you that hated gelatinous foods. Last time I checked, jelly was gelatinous."

"No, I didn't say I hated gelatinous foods. I said I hated…asparagus."

"Asparagus?"

"Yep. That's what I said."

"But I thought you said…"

"Nope. I said asparagus. I love jelly doughnuts though. See?" I pulled a doughnut out of the bag and took a big bite. I nearly gagged. I _hate _jelly doughnuts. But I managed to swallow and force a smile anyway.

Carly crossed her arms over her chest and eyed me skeptically. "You guys are so weird," she said. _I really need some normal friends_, I heard her think as she left the room to go upstairs.

I let out a sigh of relief. "That was a close one."

"You're telling me. You're the worst liar ever! Asparagus? How does that sound anything like gelatinous?"

"They sound similar!"

"No they don't!"

"Well a lot of help you were. You barely said anything!"

"Hey, I helped!"

I scoffed. "Barely."

She narrowed her eyes. "Watch it Benson. I don't think you want me to have to 'destroy' you right here."

"Who says we'll destroy each other at all? We could fall in love."

Sam gave me a look of disgust. "I don't think so," she said. "But maybe we can beat this thing. I mean, who says that we have to do something just because some lame prophecy says so? Why can't we just stay the way we are? Alive and not in love?"

"Moira says real prophecies are never wrong. And this prophecy is definitely real."

She shrugged. "First time for everything."

I thought for a moment. "Okay. It's a deal. We'll fight the prophecy. No falling in love, and no destroying each other."

"Sounds good to me," she said, stuffing another doughnut into her mouth. "An' ish a gooh thin fuh ooh too. 'Cause I kuh defnilly kill ooh an-ah-time I fellike it."

"Sam!" said Carly, coming back downstairs. "Are you threatening to kill Freddie again?" _I can't even leave them alone for two minutes without the possibility of them killing each other._

"Carls!" Sam said, quickly swallowing the remains of her doughnut. "I thought you left."

"No, I just had to go to the bathroom. Now what is all this about killing Freddie?"

"We were just talking about…a game."

"Game? What kind of game?"

"Well, it's this game my cousin Annie taught me. It's called Assassin."

"Annie…the tattoo artist who's on parole?"

"No no, she's in jail again. Anyway, Assassin is kind of like paintball, but they're miniature paintballs, and you shoot them at people through a little blow tube. The best part is the game doesn't end until there is one final winner." She looked at me. "You can be shot anytime, anywhere."

"Sounds violent."

"Aw, it's not so bad. You can join us if you want. I was thinking about starting up a game tomorrow."

"Sure. Can Spencer play too?"

"Yeah, more the merrier and all that chizz. Why don't you go ask him now?"

"I can't. He's at Socko's. I'll ask him as soon as he gets home."

"No! I mean…if we're going to do this thing tomorrow, I need to know as soon as possible how many people are playing…so I know how many supplies we need."

"Oh. Well that makes sense. I'll just call him…"

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"I broke his phone."

Carly just stared. "First Freddie's laptop, now Spencer's phone? Remind me to punish you later." She grabbed her purse and walked out the door.

"And that, my dear Freddison," said Sam, putting an arm around my shoulders, "is how you tell a good lie."

"Never thought I'd see the day that you'd lie to Carly," I said.

"I could say the same to you."

"Touché. But I mean, this is pretty big. I know we promised Carly that we wouldn't keep any more secrets from her after the whole 'kiss' incident, but this is different. No one but you and Moira knows I'm psychic, and I'd like to keep it that way. It's not that I don't trust Carly, but I don't think she'd take it well. She'd freak out big time."

"Definitely. So it's agreed. What Carly doesn't know won't hurt her."

I nodded. "Agreed."

Little did we know, someone was watching us, listening to every word we said.


	17. iAm Assassinated

**I'm not as satisfied with this chapter as I have been with the last few, but I hope you like it anyway. I think I might be having trouble writing iCarly right now because recently my life has been taken over by Doctor Who. Do any of you watch it? It's amazing. And incredibly addictive. In other news, can you believe the iOMG promo? Gah, I'm so excited!**

**Disclaimer: The angels have the phone box! I mean…I don't own iCarly.**

"Okay. The object of the game is to eliminate the person you've just been assigned by shooting them with a paintball. Every time you eliminate someone, their target becomes your target. The only time you can shoot someone who's not your target is in self-defense if they try to shoot you first. When the game starts, you have to leave the park. You can go home, go to the Groovy Smoothie, whatever, but you have to leave this spot for at least ten minutes. Everyone is invincible for the first ten minutes, so you can take that time to come up with a plan or find a good hiding spot. And remember, once that ten minutes is up, you can be shot anytime and anywhere, so be on your guard at all times. The player still in the game after everyone else has been eliminated wins. Any questions?"

The shirtless boy standing next to me tentatively raised his hand.

"Yeah Gib?" our game coordinator answered.

"What about the bathroom?"

"What about it?"

"Well can we be shot even there? I don't think I can defend myself very well when I'm-"

"Okay! I get the picture! Bathrooms are safe zones, but that's the only exception. Any other questions?"

Gibby raised his hand again.

Sam groaned. "What is it now?"

"Can I have a snack first?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"NO!"

"Pretty please with hot sauce on top?"

"Gibby!"

"Okay, okay! No snack! Sheesh, there's no need to get all snippy about it."

Sam just rolled her eyes. "Anyone have any other questions?" A familiar chubby arm shot up yet again. "Anyone else?" Gibby only stretched his arm up higher.

"I think she means someone besides you, Gib," I whispered gently. Gibby slowly lowered his arm, looking hurt. Tasha, standing on his other side, wrapped her arms around her boyfriend's shirtless shoulders to comfort him.

"Alright!" said Sam, when no one else raised their hand. "Everyone got a weapon and a target?"

All fifteen of us nodded. It was still beyond me how Sam had managed to get so many people to show up for this game on such short notice, but that was just one thing that I had learned to accept about Sam: when she set her mind to making something happen, it happened. Always.

"Okay, when I say go, we all leave the park. Remember, you're invincible for the first ten minutes." She grabbed the bedazzled phone away from Terrene, who had been standing next to her rapidly texting away, and checked the time. "At exactly one forty-eight, the game really begins. Everyone ready?" We nodded again. "GO!"

* * *

I was a little surprised at how well I'd been doing in the game so far. I'd gotten through the first two days and half of the third and I was still alive. I'd even gotten someone out. Then again, Tasha was a pretty easy target. She just sat there when I hit her with the paintball. I had kind of expected her to freak out over the paint ruining her perfect pink blouse, but she just shrugged and said that it was Gibby's blouse anyway. I don't know whether that made me feel relieved or even more worried than before. Now I was hunting Wesley, but I wasn't having as much luck with him.

Of course, I did have a slight advantage. Since I could read people's minds, I knew who was hunting me from the beginning, and I knew when that person was in the room if I listened closely. It was originally Gibby's job to hunt me down, but Wendy had eliminated him on the first day. Wendy was good, but unfortunately for me, the person who was hunting her down was even better, and she lost on the second day. And even more unfortunately, this new hunter was the one person whose thoughts I couldn't hear.

Checking over my shoulder for the third time to make sure Sam was nowhere in sight, I quickly made my way up the stairs to the iCarly studio.

"Hey," I said, opening the door and spotting a brunette head peeping out from the top of a _Sixteen _magazine while the girl reading it sat comfortably in a red beanbag chair.

"Oh, hey Freddie," Carly said, glancing up from her magazine. "What's up?"

"I just came over to check and make sure all the equipment is working correctly for the next webcast. Sam's not here, is she?"

"No, she's not. Why?"

"Because she's the one who's hunting me."

Carly gave me a confused look. "But I thought that no one was supposed to know who was hunting who."

I felt like kicking myself. I really had to be more careful with what I said to people who didn't know my secret. Especially Carly. "Right," I said carefully, "but I um…I overheard Wendy telling Sam that I had been her target after Sam got her out."

"Oh, okay," she nodded. "Well I think you're safe for now. I heard Sam say she had to go bail some relative of hers out of jail."

"How can she bail anyone out of jail? She doesn't have any money."

"Oh yeah, she also told me to tell you to look in your wallet."

"My wallet?" I quickly reached for my back pocket and pulled out the small fake leather pouch. Inside was nothing but a little slip of white paper that said _"Love Sam."_

"Man!" I groaned. "She took all of it! And I'd been saving up for a PearPad too!"

Carly got up from her beanbag and walked over to the tech cart to see what the note I was holding said. She giggled lightly. "Oh Sam."

"It's not funny!"

"No, no. Of course not," she said, trying to keep a straight face. I put my head in my hands and let out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry," she said while giving me a small pat on the back. "Is there anything I can do to help with your…tech check thingy?"

I had to crack a smile at that. "You can help me with the camera check for the B-cam. Just stand behind that camera over there and adjust the angle until I think it looks right."

"Aye aye, Cap'n," she said, giving a salute. I rolled my eyes and walked to the other side of the camera.

"Okay, it looks just a little bit high."

"Tilt it down?"

"Yeah…wait, not that much. Back up."

"'Kay. Like this?" She tilted camera back up again.

"Yeah, but…"

I was interrupted suddenly by a wild and slightly demonic looking Sam running into the room, screeching like a Banshee and sporting war paint on her face.

"No no no! Sam, not now! Wait!" I pulled out my blow tube as quickly as I could, but by the time I raised it to my lips, it was too late. Sam had already fired, and the orange paintball came flying towards me, spattering against my chest before I could get out of the way. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the floor of the iCarly studio while an overzealous Sam jumped around like a crazy person and shouted in victory. She was still bouncing around and making a racket when she opened the door and left the studio as quickly as she had come.

Carly helped me to my feet and gave me a sympathetic smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I got out in the first hour of the game. Spencer got me while I was eating toast."

I chuckled. "Yeah, that makes me feel a little better." I walked back to the tech cart. "Still willing to help me with the camera test?"

"Sure." She took her place behind the camera again.

"Okay, move it…left." The camera moved to the right. "Um Carly…your other left."

"Oh. My bad." She moved the camera in the correct direction this time.

"Right there!" The camera stopped and I stared at it for a moment. "Perfect. Thanks Carls."

"No problem." She went back to her beanbag and resumed reading her magazine while I checked the iCarly email. There were a ton of them, and it was starting to be too much to read them all. I skipped over the ones with subject titles like "Go Creddie!" or "Go Seddie!" or "I am Lewbert's mother and I want to kill you" and went for the ones that looked like they might actually say something useful.

Someone who called herself 'The Blonde Assassin' suggested "using the dorky camera boy as live bait to go shark fishing." I rolled my eyes and moved on to the next message. It was from a guy named Dan who thought he could turn iCarly into a hit television show. After what had happened with TVS that one time, we all agreed to never let iCarly get involved with TV again, so I deleted the email. Then a girl named Megan emailed us claiming to be Carly in an alternate universe where Spencer was some psycho named Crazy Steve. We got a few dozen emails from Stacey, who was always emailing us about doing skits with cotton swabs. Another girl named Abby just kept babbling on about John Lennon and chocolate and how someone named Rose needed to go to a doctor, or something like that. _Jeez, _I thought. _Our show really attracts some wackos._

I was about to give up when suddenly, something caught my eye. Someone had sent us a message simply entitled "Dare." I opened it and read the message inside.

"_Dear iCarly,_

_I have a dare for the young girl who hosts your show. I dare her to dress up like a rabbit and offer to brush people's teeth in exchange for a dollar. Think about it. The audience would love it, and your show could gain a little money off of the deal. I do hope you'll consider my offer."_

I scrolled down to see if the person sending the dare left a name, but they didn't. I tried to check the email address, but there wasn't one, probably because of some glitch in the system. Besides, name or no name, it was still a good dare, even if it was a little odd. And it was more normal than most of the other emails I'd read that day. I told Carly about it, and she agreed. The dare was scheduled for Saturday.

* * *

"Free teeth brushing! One dollar! Excuse me sir, would you like me to brush your teeth for you? Only one dollar! No? Oh, okay. Well what about you ma'am…no? Okay. Sir, would you like to have your teeth…hey! Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you! What, is it the bunny suit? I'm not a freak! Really! I just want to…hey! No obscene gestures! Don't you know kids watch this show?"

"Carly." She turned around to face me. "Maybe we should just give up. I don't think anyone wants you to brush their teeth."

"Seattle's full of freaks," she said. "There just has to be _someone _who wants to have their teeth brushed by a web show host. I'm not giving up yet. Let's try the other side of the street."

"We're not fishing, Carls." Sam said. "I don't think that moving to the other side of the street is really going to…" But before she could get the words out of her mouth, Carly was walking away.

The sign said walk, so she started to cross the street, Sam and I bringing up the rear. She was halfway across the street and Sam was just about to cross too when the sign changed to a big red hand. I grabbed Sam's shoulder before she could go any farther.

"That's weird," I muttered under my breath. "I thought those things were supposed to warn you when they were about to run out of time." Suddenly, I heard the sound of a loud horn. A taco truck that seemed to have come out of nowhere was speeding right for Carly, and Carly was bending over to pick up the tube of toothpaste she had apparently dropped.

"Carly!" I shouted, but she was too far away to hear me. I looked at Sam, and she had gone completely white, too afraid to move or even breathe. Adrenaline took over, and time seemed to slow down. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I shoved the camera into Sam's arms and ran into the street, not even bothering to look and see if any other cars were coming my way.

"CARLY!" I screamed again as I ran closer. This time she heard me, and looked up to see the truck coming towards her. She gasped and dropped the toothbrush and toothpaste. I kept running. I pushed her out of the way just in time to feel an intense pain in my side. I fell to the ground and felt my leg twist in an odd direction, but the truck didn't run me over.

"Freddie!" I heard someone shout, but I was in too much pain to open my eyes and see who it was. I heard the sound of footsteps, and then felt someone's hair tickling my face as they leaned over me. A soft hand cupped my cheek. _Please be okay, _said the person's mind. _Don't die, Freddie. Please be okay._

I mustered enough strength to lift my head a little and open my eyes. "Sam?" I said. I looked up to see her blue eyes looking wet and troubled, while a scared-stiff Carly sat on the ground not too far away, unharmed, but unable to move. I looked behind her and noticed the taco truck was gone. My eyes found their way back to Sam just before my head fell back onto the asphalt and the world went black.


	18. iHave a Girlfriend

**I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I know it's been forever since I've updated. I was going to upload the week before last, but I kind of procrastinated until the last minute (hey, it was my birthday weekend and I felt like being lazy) and then I ran out of time. So I was like, "No problem. I'll just finish next week." I knew I had a trip to Disney the next week (for a Brain Brawl/Brain Bowl/Quiz Bowl/whatever your school might call it competition. We made it to semis!…and then came in last. Oh well.) But what I didn't know was that we weren't coming back Saturday like I thought, but SUNDAY. Sunday AFTERNOON. And I still had homework to do. So here I am, nearly two weeks late, hoping you guys won't be too mad. Did I mention I'm sorry?**

**On a separate note, iOMG! GAH! Maybe not my favorite episode overall, but I did love that last scene. Still kind of prefer iKiss though…**

**Disclaimer: Seventeen years old now and I still don't own iCarly. Well that's very disappointing.**

"_You know, everyone at school is saying you're a hero."_

_I shrugged. "I don't feel like a hero."_

"_Well you are one." She sat down on the edge of my bed, dark hair cascading over her shoulder and almost-black eyes boring into mine. "To me." It took me a minute to realize that she was slowly leaning forward. She moved closer and closer until I could feel her warm breath on my face. Then we were only inches apart. Then only one inch. She finally closed the distance between us and—_

"FREDDIE!"

A loud, screechy voice snapped me out of my daydream. "Yeah Mom?"

My mom marched into my room with a scowl on her face and a tube of lip gloss in her hand. "What is this?" she demanded.

I leaned forward and stared at the tiny pink tube. "Raspberry lip gloss."

"Don't you get smart with me, Mister!"

"But it really is raspberry lip gloss!"

"Yes. I can see that. Now would you mind telling me why I found it in _my_ living room?"

"I don't know. I guess Carly must've left it when she came by earlier."

"Don't lie to me!"

"Mom, what are you talking ab…"

"Where is she? Is she hiding under here?" She stooped down and peered under my bed.

"Who?"

Mom suddenly popped up from the floor, eyes wild as she stared at me from her position crouched behind my bed. "_Who?_ Oh, just the girl who caused you to be hit by a taco truck and then tried to suck your face off!"

Yep. That's right. It wasn't just a fantasy I was dreaming about earlier. It was a memory. Carly actually kissed me earlier that day. I know what you're thinking: _"What? Carly kissed Freddie? What is the world coming to?"_ Maybe I should back up a little.

After the incident with the taco truck, I woke up in the hospital. I freaked out a little at first, but it turned out not to be too bad. A broken arm, a broken leg, two slightly cracked ribs, and a few scratches here and there. Okay, that sounds pretty bad. But miraculously, I didn't have a concussion, for which I was very thankful.

Well apparently, the news that I pushed Carly out of the way of a speeding taco truck moved around school fast. Before I knew it, I had been labeled the town hero.

And Carly likes heros.

A lot.

The downside: my mom walked in on us making out. Needless to say, she wasn't pleased.

"Mom, Carly isn't here. She left hours ago."

"But she could have come back!"

I rolled my eyes. "You beat her away with my underwear. I don't think there's any danger of her ever coming back here again."

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, Mister! Oh, I knew that girl was bad news. Teaching you bad habits like eye-rolling and…spit-swapping!"

"Come on, I've rolled my eyes before, and you know it. It's not because of Carly. And as for the spit-swapping…"

"I don't want you to see her anymore."

I was taken aback. "What?"

"You heard me. I don't want you to see that…that _floozy_…anymore."

"Okay, first off, Carly isn't a floozy. And second, you can't stop me from seeing her if I want to." I crossed my arms over my chest.

Mom let out a tiny gasp. "It's worse than I thought! Now she's taught you how to rebel! That settles it. You are never to go anywhere near that girl again. That means no visits to her apartment, no web show, and I'm taking you out of Ridgeway."

"WHAT? You can't just take me out of school!"

"Watch me." She turned around and headed for the door.

"You know what?" I said, a little louder than I meant to. I struggled to sit up straighter and pulled the covers off of my legs. "I'm going to Carly's apartment right now, _and _I'm going to school tomorrow! And you can't stop me!"

"But you're not ready to go back to school yet! You're still broken!"

"Now Marissa," a voice said. Moira walked into the room, her long, navy skirt swishing around her ankles and a cup of tea in her hand. "Leave the boy alone. He's a good kid. He wouldn't do anything stupid, right Freddie?" I shook my head quickly. "You see? Nothing stupid. I say let him go to school tomorrow. He's stayed home long enough."

"But he's broken!"

"He's doing better. Besides, do you really want him to stay in bed all day, getting no exercise at all? And the longer he stays home, the more makeup work he'll have to do for school, which could mean staying up too late. Is that what you want for him?"

"Well… "

"And you know as well as I do that that web show he does is good for him. You were just telling me the other day how he's been so much happier these last few years because of it. Do you really want to take away the one thing that makes him truly happy?"

Mom crossed her arms and pursed her lips, shifting her gaze back and forth between Moira and me. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. You can go to school tomorrow." Moira elbowed my mom lightly. "And you can keep doing iCarly."

I smiled. "Thanks Mom."

"But you'd better not be making out with that girl at school!" With an indignant "_hmph_," she turned and walked out of the room, only to return a second later. "And don't make out with her here either!" Again she left, and again she came back in. "Or at her apartment!" And again. "Or anywhere!" This time when she left, she shut the door behind her and didn't come back in.

I stared at Moira. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" she asked, sipping her tea.

"Get my mom to agree to let me go back to school and keep doing iCarly." She shrugged. "It didn't even look like you were trying. If I'd tried arguing with her any longer, I'd have ended up living the rest of my life in a bubble."

"For all intents and purposes," she said, opening the door and stepping outside, "you already do." With a small wink, she closed the door behind her and left.

* * *

"Well good morning Mr. and Mrs. Benson." I looked over to see Sam, smirking carelessly as she strolled into the hallway an hour late for school.

"Sam… " Carly reprimanded.

"Stop," I added.

Just then, a ringing noise emanated through the school. "Oh, second bell," said Carly, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. "See you after class." I watched her as she left, bouncing down the hall and smiling at everyone she saw. I was still a little in disbelief that the girl of my dreams was finally mine.

"Yeah, savor it."

I brought my attention back to Sam, who looked just a little too nonchalant for comfort. "Savor what?"

"The love," she said simply. "The _Carly_ love."

I smirked. "Jealous?"

"Gross." My face fell for a second. I didn't know why, but I had felt almost…_happy_ when I thought she might be jealous my new relationship. But of course she wasn't. She hated me. I mean, we hated each other. There was no reason she should have been jealous, or that I should have wanted her to be. I had nothing to feel bad about. Right?

"Then what's your problem?" I asked, suddenly realizing she was still waiting for a response.

She scoffed. "Not my problem. Yours." She turned and started walking down the hall.

_Wait, what?_ I thought. I was dating the love of my life. What problem could I possibly have? "Wait!" I called after her, following her as fast as my crutches would allow.

"Go to class Crutchie," she said and continued walking.

I finally caught up with her at her locker. "What problem do I have?" I asked.

She turned to face me, suddenly looking very serious. "You want the truth?"

I shrugged. "Let's hear it."

She thought for a moment before speaking. "Remember two years ago when I dated that guy, Eric Mosby?" she asked. "The kid with the big nose?"

"Sure. Noseby Mosby."

"Uh-huh. And remember how he tried to get me to be his girlfriend for like six months, and I kept saying 'Get away from me or I'll kill you'?" I nodded. "And then he bought me a subscription to the Bacons of the World Club and then _boom_, I thought I was in love with the guy?"

"I'm listening."

"I was never in love with _him_!" she exclaimed. "I was in love with the foreign bacon that kept showing up at my door every month!" A pensive look appeared on her face. "Like a beautiful, greasy dream."

"Uh, I doubt that bacon could make you think you're in love with someone," I pointed out.

"You ever had Bolivian bacon?"

"No… "

She nodded. "It changes you."

"Well I didn't buy Carly any foreign bacon. I saved her life!"

"And that's Carly's bacon! She's not in love with _you_. She's in love with what you _did._"

I was starting to get a little angry, but I kept my cool. "You just can't stand the idea of Carly and me as a couple," I said.

"Very true. It makes me want to puke up blood." Wait, was she possibly jealous after all? "But still. What I said is true, and you know it."

"I've got to get to class," I said, turning away. Sam shrugged and walked off in the opposite direction.

As I walked down the hall toward my second period class, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe Sam was right. What if Carly really did only like me because I saved her life? It was true that she never had any interest in me before all this happened. And she practically told me that the reason she liked me was because I was her hero…

"Aw man," I muttered aloud, stopping in the middle of the hall. Sam was right. Carly didn't really love me at all.

But the weirdest part was that I kept being aware of this tiny voice in the back of my head, so tiny that I didn't even realize at first that it was there, much less that the voice was my own. But now that I knew it was there, it was starting to get louder and louder, until it was practically shouting. Shouting that maybe all of this was wrong. That maybe we were never meant to be together.

That maybe, just maybe, I didn't really love Carly either.

* * *

The elevator doors opened to reveal Carly standing in the middle of the studio, absorbed in a game of _Violin God. _She looked so pretty that I suddenly had second thoughts about doing what I was about to do. I mean, maybe I was wrong and Sam was just messing with my mind. Of course I loved Carly. I'd always loved Carly. She was perfect.

_And there it is, _the voice in my head said smugly. _She's perfect. Perfect eyes, perfect hair, perfect personality. The only problem is that perfect isn't what you want._

_What? _I thought. _Of course I want someone who's perfect. Doesn't everyone?_

_Not you, _said the voice.

This was ridiculous. I was arguing with myself, and I think I was losing. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and stepped out of the elevator. Carly turned around and smiled at me.

"There you are!" she said.

"Here I am." I walked, well, crutched into the room and took my place at my tech cart. "Spencer tell you I was coming over?"

"Yeah. He said you want to fix something on the iCarly site?"

"Uh-huh. I'm just going to bump up the speed with this eight-core three-gigahertz server."

"Ooh, I love it when you talk all techy." Now that definitely wasn't normal.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah!" she said, smiling her perfect smile. "It's cute and geeky at the same time. It's cuky."

"You've never called my tech-talk 'cuky' before," I pointed out.

"Well, that was before we were…you know…" Instead of finishing her thought, she wrapped her arms lightly around my neck and leaned in for a kiss. It was nice, as expected, but it felt like something was…missing. And I couldn't help but notice that her thoughts were a little…well not shallow exactly, but just…normal.

_I wonder if Sam and Spencer have finished their assassin game yet. That game was getting really crazy. And speaking of crazy, I really need to start on my homework for Mr. Henning's class, or he's going to flip out again. Eh, I'll do it later._

It was like kissing me was no more special than taking a trip to the grocery store. Sam's voice came back into my head.

"_She's not in love with __you__. She's in love with what you __did__."_

I pulled away from the kiss suddenly. Carly gave me a confused look.

"You retreated."

Busted. "I didn't retreat," I lied.

"You kinda did," she said, looking like she was trying really hard not to seem hurt. And from her thoughts, that's exactly what she was doing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "It's just…um…so, are we…are we like boyfriend and girlfriend now?" It was the first time I realized that it had never really been established.

"I dunno…" she said. _Yes, you idiot! Yes! _"Maybe."

"Oh."

This time Carly didn't even try to pretend she wasn't hurt. "Well don't say 'oh' like that."

"I just said oh!"

"No, you said it like you were at a raffle and you won a prize, and you found out the prize was just a can of soup. So you go: 'oh.'"

I rolled my eyes. "You know I like you way better than most soups."

She giggled. "Well yay." _Good Freddie. Just keep her giggling. You can talk your way out of this. _"Now, what do you want to do? Kiss? Or bump up your four-score gigglejam server?"

"Eight-core three-gigahertz." Weird. I always used to think it was cute when she couldn't say tech-terms. Now, for some reason, I found it kind of…annoying?

"Yeah, that's really interesting," she mocked. She put her arms around my neck again. "Come here." And she kissed me. Again.

"_She's not in love with you," _Sam's voice penetrated my thoughts again. _She's not in love with you. She's not in love with you. She's not in love with you._

_And you're not in love with her either._

I pulled away again, leaving Carly looking more hurt than ever. _He really doesn't want to kiss me, _she thought. "You really don't want to kiss me. Why?"

"'Cause…" I started, "I'm just bacon!"

She put her hands on her hips. "You're bacon?" _Oh jeez, he's delusional. No wonder he doesn't want to kiss me._

"Foreign bacon!"

She looked at me like I'd gone completely insane. "Did that taco truck hit you in your brain?" I groaned in frustration. I couldn't tell her why I didn't want to kiss her even if I _did_ know the answer, and I wasn't sure I did. "I thought you wanted me to be your girlfriend since the first day you met me."

"I have," I sighed.

"Well, I'm standing here with my lips all glossed up and you're treating me like I'm your icky cousin Amanda."

"Amanda is disgusting." On second thought, maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to say.

"Freddie…" Carly started.

"Okay," I said, gathering my thoughts. I was determined this time to say the right thing. "You know how you've always said that you like me…but that you don't like me 'that way'? You know, the _good _way?"

"Yeah, but that was before–"

"Before I saved your life?"

She shrugged. "So?"

"Nothing's changed," I said. "I'm still the same Freddie and you're still the same Carly."

"But I love–"

"You love what I did. You love that I risked my life to save yours. But I don't think you're _in _love with me. You just think you are."

Her gaze dropped to the floor and she started to pace back and forth. "You mean like when Sam dated Noseby Mosby because he got her all that–"

"Bacon," we said in unison.

I nodded. "Yeah. Exactly."

Carly was silent for a moment. "So…you _don't_ want me to be your girlfriend?"

"No, I do, but…I think we should wait a while. 'Till I'm out of this cast and this whole 'hero' thing wears off. And then…if you still want to be my girlfriend…I'd be really psyched about it." _I think._

Carly forced a small smile. "Okay."

There was another awkward silence. "I should probably get home," I said. "So my mom can spray me." I pressed the button to call the elevator. The doors opened immediately and I stepped inside.

"Well," said Carly. "I'll…see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." I kind of hated to end things on such a sour note, but what could I do to make things feel alright between us again? Suddenly, I had an idea. "Um…listen," I said, pressing the 'hold doors open' button on the inside of the elevator. "When we kissed before…I didn't realized that would be our last one…for a while. So I was thinking…" She walked into the elevator and stood beside me. "Maybe, if you wanted to…"

I trailed off as she gave me a light kiss on my cheek. Somehow, it was even better than a kiss on the lips.

"Night Freddie," she smiled, all the awkward suddenly gone. I waved, and she walked back into the studio, the elevator doors closing behind her.

I sighed and leaned back a little. That hadn't been as bad as I thought it was going to be. And now I didn't have to date Carly anymore.

Wait a minute…I wasn't dating Carly anymore. The girl of my dreams was finally mine, and I broke up with her. All because _SAM_ told me to?

"What did I do?" I muttered aloud.

"WHAT DID I DO?"

* * *

I came downstairs to find a triumphant looking Sam sitting on the Shay's couch and eating a turkey leg.

"I hope you're happy Puckett," I said reproachfully as I exited the elevator.

"Well, let's see. I'm chilling on someone else's couch, I'm eating someone else's food, I just beat Spencer in Assassin, and best of all, you look pissed. Yeah, you could say I'm pretty happy right now."

"Well it's good to know that taking advantage of other people and gorging yourself on dead animals is all it takes to make you happy!" I said, raising my voice a little more than I'd meant to.

Sam stared at me with her eyebrows knit together. "Okay, what's your problem?"

"What's my problem? Oh nothing, except that you tricked me into breaking up with Carly! Do you know what the chances are that she'll ever take me back?"

"Less than four percent?" she shrugged.

"They're not good, that's what they are!" I started pacing around the room. "This is all your fault!"

"Whoa whoa whoa," she said, getting up from her seat. "How is any of this my fault? I never told you to break up with her."

"But you told me that she didn't love me! And I started to think you might be right! But you know what? I don't really care if she loves me or not!"

"Really?"

"Really." I pressed the elevator button.

"Where are you going?"

I walked into the elevator. "To beg her to take me back."

"Whoa!" she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the elevator. "I thought you just said you didn't care whether or not she loved you back?"

"I don't. But that doesn't mean I don't still want to date her."

She looked at me incredulously. "You know what?" she said, letting go of my arm. "Fine. If you want to give up all your self-respect for a girl who doesn't even love you, be my guest. Just don't blame me when she breaks your heart." She started walking towards the door.

"Since when do you care about my heart?"

She turned around, looking uncomfortably serious. "I've always cared Freddie."

I was silent for a moment, but then I scoffed. She was totally lying. "Says the girl who bought a taco from the truck that nearly killed me!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Says the girl who went after the creep who just drove away after nearly killing you!"

I stopped. "The truck driver left? And you went after him?"

"That's what I just said."

"But why? And I still don't get why you needed to buy a taco."

"The taco was just a cover-up, Cheese Brain. I needed it so the driver wouldn't be suspicious. I couldn't exactly just go up to her and say 'Hey, you just hit my friend with your truck! Please don't drive away before I have the chance to beat you senseless!' And as for why, well…let's just say I thought I recognized her."

"Really? But who…wait. _Her?_"

She nodded solemnly. "Her."


	19. iVisit Juvie

**Over 200 reviews now! You guys are awesome. :)**

**On a separate note, DO YOU SEE THIS? DO YOU SEE HOW SOON I'M UPDATING? Just more proof that I love you guys…and that I'm trying really hard to work on my procrastination issues, with the help of some advice from Archilochus (thanks again, I'm trying :))**

**Oh, and guess what? I know this doesn't affect you guys at all, but I just found out like an hour ago and I'm pretty excited about it. Apparently, I'm a National Merit Semifinalist. Yay! And do you know what that means? I'm going to celebrate with PIE. Truthfully, I was probably going to eat pie anyway, but now I have an excuse! Double yay! *Does pie dance.***

**Disclaimer: I'm sad to say, I don't own iCarly. But I'm very happy to say that I don't own the song "Friday" by Rebecca Black either.**

_It's Wednesday! Wednesday! Gotta get up on Wednesday! Everybody wants to know, why is this day spelled so weird? Wednesday! Wednesday! The day after Tuesday! Saturday will come later in the week! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Yay! Y-_

I finally found my cell phone stuffed inside of a raw chicken (something that happened about as often as Spencer prepared any kind of poultry). I sighed, wiped it off with a paper towel, and put the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I said.

"_Hey Dork!"_ a voice whisper-yelled through the earpiece.

"Sam!" I yelled. "I can't believe you changed my ringtone to that horrible 'Wednesday' song _AGAIN_! And why are you whispering?"

"_Never mind that now. We've got bigger issues at hand."_

"Like what?" I asked, taking a sip of the Wahoo Punch I had been drinking.

"_Well for starters, I'm in jail."_

As if you didn't see it coming, the sugary three-percent fruit juice was immediately forced from my mouth in a violent spit-take, leaving a sticky red mess all over Carly and Spencer's kitchen floor. "YOU'RE IN WHERE?"

"_Shhh! Quiet! I said I'm in jail. Well, juvie actually, but it might as well be jail."_

"Sam! How'd you end up in there this time?"

"_Okay, before I tell you, I just want you to know that they WAY overreacted."_

"Sam…"

"_Well…I might have…kinda…accidentally…shoved a hot chilidog down a Mexican ambassador's pants."_

"WHAT? Why on earth would you do that?"

"_Um…do you remember when you got hit by that taco truck?"_

"No, Sam. I completely forgot that I almost died a few months ago." I rolled my eyes.

"_Don't be sarcastic."_

"Why not? You're sarcastic all the time."

"_Yeah, but I'm good at it. Anyway, you remember how I said that I thought I recognized the truck driver?"_

"Oh no, not this again. Sam, I thought you gave up on this spiel months ago."

"_Okay, first of all, who says 'spiel'? And second of all, I'm telling you Frednub, I saw her then and I saw her again today!"_

"Disguised as a foreign dignitary?"

"_Don't be ridiculous. She looked the same as last time. She was standing in front of me in line at the Jiffy Mart. Well, she was until that stupid ambassador cut in front of me so I couldn't get to her."_

"So you shoved hot cow meat down his pants?"

"_Eh, he deserved it. But enough small talk. We have to hurry. I can't get caught talking on a cell phone here."_

"Wait a minute. Don't they take your phone away when they put you in juvie? And don't you get one phone call from the jail phone anyway?"

"_Yeah, but I kind of wasted the one phone call on my mom. She didn't care too much, as I should've expected. But I needed to call you in private anyway. I didn't exactly want them listening in on the conversation when I was telling you about__…_ well, you know who. As for taking away my phone, they did. Didn't you notice it wasn't my number on the caller ID?"

"I was a little busy trying to make my nauseating ringtone stop, thank you very much. Whose phone are you using?"

"_Well…I knew they were going to take my phone away, so I grabbed an extra in advance. It turned out to be nicer than mine, so when they went to confiscate my phone, I gave them my real phone and kept this one."_

"Sam." My voice was stern. "Whose phone did you take?"

"_Oh…no one's."_

I took the phone away from my ear and checked the caller ID. The number was long, and I realized that was because there was a country code in front of the number. An "011-52" country code. I suppose having a psychotic mother did come in handy from time to time, even if memorizing country codes and area codes "just in case I ever needed to know" seemed pointless at the time. I knew what country that cell phone had come from. Mexico.

"Sam! First you shove a chilidog down an ambassador's pants and then you steal his cell phone?" I shuddered to think about the poor man's phone and dry cleaning bills.

"_Well that's what he gets for cutting in front of me! If he hadn't been in my way, I could've pummeled the living chiz out of that stupid-"_

"Will you just give up on that already? I'm telling you, it wasn't her last time and it isn't her this time. It's impossible, Sam. Physically _impossible_."

"_But-"_

"Sam, we don't have time for this now. Now tell me, how are you going to get out of that place?"

"_Eh, I'll just bust out of here when the guards are asleep. No biggie."_

I scoffed. "Yeah, because that worked out so well last time."

"_Hey, I got out, didn't I?"_

"Yeah. You did. And you came to _my _apartment, where the police came looking for you an hour later! My mom _still_ refuses to ever let you through our door again!"

I heard her scoff. "_Please. Like I'd ever willingly go into your nerd cave again anyway. So, busting out is, well, out. They said that I'd only have to stay here until someone came to get me anyway. I guess you'll just have to come and get me. Usually only a parent can get you out of juvie, but, well, they know me here. And they know about my mom too. So any old nub they think looks responsible will do."_

"Fine. But you're just going to have to wait until tomorrow morning. It's nearly six and my mom won't let me drive after dark."

"_Then get her to drive you."_

I laughed. "Right, like my mom is going to agree to drive me to a juvenile detention center so I can bail out my delinquent friend."

"_Okay, point taken. But what about iCarly?"_

"The show will just have to go on without you."

"_Ugh!" she groaned. "I hate being locked up like this!"_

"That's what you get for misusing meat," I sang.

"_You'd better shut up or I'll misuse your face. So I'll see you tomorrow?"_

"Yeah. I'll head over there right after my mom leaves for work, so I should be there to pick you up around…eight-fifteen or so? It's the same juvie center as last time, right? The one right next to Mrs. Frusaud's House of Wax?"

"_Yep. That's the one."_

"Alright. I'll see you then. Oh, and what about Carly? Do you want her to come too?"

"_It'd probably be best if she didn't. I don't think Carly would do well in a place like this. You know how prissy she can be. And you probably shouldn't tell her that you're picking me up either. She'll want to know why you're coming and not her."_

"Yeah. I guess so. So what should I tell her?"

"_Just say that my mom is coming to get me but that they won't let me out until tomorrow morning. Then again, you are the world's most terrible liar…"_

"Sam!"

"_Okay, how about this. I send you both an email telling you what's going on. Then you won't be obligated to lie and Carly won't be suspicious as to why I called you and not her."_

"Wait, why _did_ you call me and not her?"

"_Did you already forget who I said I saw at the Jiffy Mart? That's not exactly something Carly can know about. Wait…hold on a second." _There was a brief pause, and I could hear the muffled voices of Sam and some girl whose voice I didn't recognize on the other end. After a few seconds, Sam came back on. _"Lexi just told me that the Man is on his way and should be here to check up on us any minute. Looks like I've got to go."_

"Okay. I'll talk to you later then."

"_Sure. Later Benson."_

I was just about to hang up when I thought of something else I wanted to say. "Sam, wait!"

There was no response at first, and for a second I thought she had hung up already. But then she spoke again, sounding extremely annoyed. "_Ugh, what is it this time? Did I not just tell you that I have to go?"_

"I just wanted to say…thanks for calling me."

The sound that came through the earpiece was somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. _"No problem Dork. Thanks for answering."_

* * *

"Name."

"Um, my name is Freddie Benson," I said, trying not to look like I was intimidated by the giant of a security guard, which was pretty hard considering he was a good foot and a half taller than me and had muscles that would give Jackson Colt a run for his money.

"I meant the name of the person you're here to see," said the guard.

"Oh. Right. Uh, Samantha Puckett."

He grunted once. "Follow me."

We walked down a long hallway until we arrived in a dirty looking cafeteria where a bunch of teenagers clad in orange jumpsuits were sitting down to a wholesome breakfast of toast and water. I found Sam at a table near the back of the room, sitting next to a girl with a nose ring and very short, very spiky, very blue hair. Sam and the girl were so engrossed in a conversation about the different methods of giving someone a wedgie that neither of them noticed our presence at all.

"Puckett!" the guard barked.

Sam looked up and her eyes met mine. "Took you long enough Dork," she said, springing up from the table with a surprising amount of energy for someone who hated mornings and had just spent the night in jail.

"Sammy," said the blue-haired girl getting up from her seat. "This can't be that boy you were telling me about, can it?"

_Huh? Sam told her about me? _"Yeah," said Sam. "Lexi, that's Freddie. Freddie, Lexi."

"Oh Sammy! Why didn't you tell me he was so cute?" Lexi squealed, pinching my cheek.

Sam's face flushed a bright pink. "Shut up," she grumbled, taking me by the collar and pulling me towards the exit. "Come on Frednub. Let's get out of this hellhole. See you Lex."

"I'll be here," Lexi said, waving goodbye. The guard followed us back to the front of the detention center where he gave Sam a plastic bag with her regular clothes in it. She snatched the bag from his hands without so much as a 'thank you' and disappeared into the nearest bathroom. When she reemerged a minute later, she had on her usual khaki shorts and her old 'Church Pants' penny-tee. She flung the orange jumpsuit at the guard, who grumbled something obscene under his breath.

"Aw, come on Leslie," she said. "You know you like me."

"Just get out of here Puckett," Leslie the guard said gruffly. She gave him a quick salute and marched out of the building, dragging me behind her.

"Leslie?" I asked when we were outside.

"Yeah," said Sam, opening the passenger-side door of the little truck my mom had given me for my sixteenth birthday. "That's his name. What about it?"

I snickered. "That guy in there, the one with the enormous biceps_…_ his name was _Leslie_?" I started laughing harder. "Come on Sam, you have to admit, that's pretty funny."

Instead of laughing like I thought she would, she simply stared at me blankly. I stopped laughing and cleared my thought. "Right. Well. Um…back to the Bushwell?" I asked, climbing into the driver's seat.

"Not just yet. The stuff they fed us in that place sucked majorly. Mama's hungry."

"And I suppose you expect me to buy you a burger and a smoothie?"

"And fries!" she exclaimed. By now, she seemed to be completely recovered from her experience in the Seattle Juvenile Detention Center, and she wore an enormous grin across her face. She lifted her right arm and pointed in the direction of the Groovy Smoothie. "Onward, nerdy steed!"

* * *

"So," she said as I handed her the cheeseburger, curly fries, and extra large Strawberry Splat smoothie she'd made me buy her. "How'd iCarly do last night?"

"Oh," I said, taking the seat across from her with my small Blueberry Blitz. "It was…good."

"Let me guess." She took a big sip of her smoothie and put her feet up on the table. "You guys got Spencer and Gibby to fill in for me and they goofed it all up, right?"

"Yeah," I said, "that's about the size of it. But I think it turned out alright in the end. Though Gibby might beg to differ. We made him brush his teeth with mustard for over four minutes."

"Really? Dude, that's awesome! Did he run away screaming afterwards?"

"Yeah, he did!" We both burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh god," I said, trying desperately to catch my breath. "We are such terrible people."

"Yep," said Sam, wiping away a tear that had escaped while she was laughing so hard. "Jeez Freddie, mingling with juvenile delinquents and laughing at other people's expense all in the same day? Looks like I'm finally starting to rub off on…" She trailed off as she spotted something behind me.

"What?" I asked. "What is it Sam?"

"Um…remember how you said that the person I thought I saw driving the taco truck that hit you, and then saw later at the Jiffy Mart, wasn't really there?"

"Yeah?"

"Well," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "turn around."


	20. iDon't Believe in Ghosts

**Hello! I hope you guys had a good Earth Day/Good Friday, and I hope you will have a nice Easter as well. Or are having a nice Passover. Or any other holiday you might be celebrating. This chapter turned out a bit short. Sorry about that. Hopefully you'll like it anyway.**

**Disclaimer: I'll get you my pretty iCarly, and your little Gibby too! For now, I own nothing but a broomstick…and a few flying monkeys.**

When I turned and saw what Sam was looking at, I guess a lot of things started going through my head.

Disbelief, for one; wondering if the person I saw standing at the smoothie counter just a few feet away was really there and really who she looked like, or if my eyes were simply playing tricks on me. Then there was the guilt I felt for not listening to Sam sooner. And the dread of what would come of all this. And the inexplicable feeling that those piercing, beady eyes were somehow staring right into my soul. But there was one thought that triumphed over all the others:

_Run._

And that's exactly what I did. Before she could protest, I grabbed Sam by the wrist and pulled her out of the smoothie shop, not bothering to stop and explain. But of course, Sam wasn't going to settle for that.

"What the chiz do you think you're doing Benson?" she asked when we were a safe distance down the block. She pulled her hand away from mine and glared at me. "I was just about to get her!"

"And land yourself back in juvie again?" I said, breathing hard and wondering how the heck Sam wasn't out of breath too. "I don't think so."

"You just saw a…well I don't even know what she was…a ghost I guess? You just saw a ghost, a _powerful _ghost, and you're worried about _juvie_? Have I ever told you how incredibly pathetic you are?"

"There's no such thing as ghosts," I said, walking away.

"Where are you going?" she asked, falling into step behind me.

"Home."

"What about your truck? Don't you want to get it from the Groovy Smoothie?"

"Right," I laughed. "Like I'm going back to that place while that…that _thing _is still there. I'll get it later."

"It wasn't a 'thing.' It was a ghost."

"It was _not_ a ghost!"

"Then why did you run away from it, huh?"

"Because…because…well I don't know. She was creeping me out! Isn't that enough of a reason to run away without getting a bunch of paranormal mumbo-jumbo involved?"

"Well I don't think she was alive. No way she could've lived that long. Besides, if we're the only two telepathists alive, then how can she be here too? She had to have died sometime before we were born."

"Exactly. Which can only mean one thing." I turned around to face her. "It wasn't her." I ignored the look of disbelief on her face as I turned away from her and started walking again.

"You're in denial!" she called after me.

"No," I said calmly. "I'm in reality."

"So in 'reality' there's a place for psychics and prophecies but not for the occasional ghost?"

"Pretty much."

"Well. Then it looks like I only have one thing left to say to you."

"Yeah?" I said, not even bothering to turn around. "And what's that?"

"Freddie Benson, you are a complete and utter dip head."

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk for the third time since leaving the Groovy Smoothie, but this time Sam didn't stop with me. She just kept walking down the sidewalk, arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face, refusing to meet my eyes. I shook my head to clear my racing thoughts and followed after her. We walked the rest of the way back to the Bushwell in silence.

* * *

It had been two days since the incident at the Groovy Smoothie, and Sam had barely spoken to me. But I was determined that that would change today. She couldn't avoid me forever, and now we would practically be forced to interact, thanks to the mutual prison we would be sharing for the next five days: school.

"Hey Sam," I said carefully.

"Hey," the bleary-eyed blonde responded as she dug around in the pile of food wrappers and unused books she called her locker. She didn't even look at me.

I guess Sam was never really one to look at people much in the mornings ("Eye contact is too much effort before noon," she'd once told me), but I was a little disheartened that she didn't respond with the usual "'Sup Freddork," or some other childish nickname.

"Um, where's Carly?" I asked, partially because I really was curious as to the bubbly brunette's absence, and partially because I desperately wanted Sam to talk to me.

"Sick." She finally found what she was looking for, a package of Auntie Moo's Home-Style Beef Jerky, and slammed her locker shut.

"Really?" I followed her as she began to walk to class. "Did she get that cold that's going around?"

"Yep," she answered, picking up speed.

I jogged after her until she was right in front of me. "Sam," I said, reaching out my arm and taking her by the shoulder. She still didn't turn around, and when she spoke her voice was icy cold.

"What do you want?"

"For you to talk to me. Ever since the day that I brought you back from juvie, you've been avoiding me like the plague. Why? I didn't do anything."

She let out a dry chuckle. "Exactly. You didn't do _anything_."

"So if I didn't do anything, then why are you mad at me?"

Nudging my hand off her shoulder, she finally turned around, looking me straight in the eye with an expression that I couldn't quite read. "You know Benson, for a smart kid, you're really stupid." As quickly as she had turned around to face me, she turned away again and started walking down the hall towards her next class.

"What?" I called after her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

But she was already gone.

* * *

Things were never quite the same between Sam and me after the incident at the Groovy Smoothie. Sure, Sam would still act normal during the web show or whenever Carly was around, but we never spent any time around each other if we could possibly avoid it anymore. When we went on an adventure in the woods to search for Bigfoot, and when a psychotic iCarly super fan locked us in her basement, and when we rebuilt Carly's room after it burned up in a fire, Sam was there with me, but she wasn't. The strange almost-friendship thing we had developed over the years was gone. It was like we were back at square one, where we were when we met five years before. We were strangers again, who hated each other for no reason. Well, no apparent reason anyway.

Not having Sam as my friend anymore was unsettling, to say the least; more so than any prophecy or ghost, or even the cold, yellow eyes that haunted nearly all my dreams now. At first, I didn't know why the loss of our weird, twisted friendship bothered me so much, but then it hit me. I missed her. I missed her crazy antics, and how she used to be so full of the energy that I never saw in her anymore. How her eyes would sparkle when she was up to no good. How she was the only person I could know everything about and nothing about all at once. No, I didn't just miss her.

I needed her.

But the Sam I knew now wasn't _my _Sam. Her energy was gone. It was like she'd given up on everything. And I had to say, I didn't like this new Sam. I didn't like her at all.


	21. iLose My Mind

**I was going to do better about updating quickly. I really was. But as you can see, this chapter turned out to be a really long one, and I kept being interrupted by stupid stuff. Like the prom hosted by my junior class last weekend and the SAT I had to take this weekend, both of which were, as my one of my friends put it, about as much fun for me as playing leapfrog with a unicorn. Yeah, that much. Anyway, I hope that the longness and hopefully awesomeness of this chapter makes up for the lateness.**

**Disclaimer: I might own iCarly…if we change the definition of the word "own." And "might." And "I."**

_Sam and I were in the Groovy Smoothie, laughing over something one of us had said, though the laughing had escalated so far and had lasted so long that I couldn't even remember what it was. We were just laughing now; glad to be in each other's company, though we'd never admit it. It was just like the old days. We'll, the not-so-long ago days._

_As we sat and laughed and the tears began to stream down our cheeks, I couldn't help but think how nice Sam's laugh was. It was kind of loud and not what most people would consider pretty, but it was real and somewhat infectious. When Sam laughed, I mean really laughed, it was impossible not to laugh with her._

_Suddenly she stopped laughing. I tried to ask her what was wrong, but she wouldn't speak. All she did was point to something behind me, her eyes big and scared. I turned around slowly until my gaze met that of the person I was afraid I would see. She was staring right at me again, just like last time, but this time she was smiling. It was not a nice smile. It was twisted and evil looking, like there was nothing that would amuse her more than seeing me in pain._

_But it wasn't the smile that got to me. It was the eyes. It was __always__ the eyes. Those beady, yellow eyes that shone from behind their heavy prison of glass. Somehow I got the feeling that that was exactly what the glasses were for. Not to amplify the eyes' power, but to hold it back. To contain it until it was needed, so that when the power was unleashed it would be stronger than ever._

_I couldn't look at her anymore. I averted my gaze so that I was looking at someone sitting at the table next to me. For a moment I felt relief, but then I noticed: their eyes were like hers. Just like hers. They even shone with that eerie glow__. I looked to a different table, but found the same thing. And the table next to it. And the table next to that one. Even T-Bo's eyes had turned the same sickly shade. And they all wore the same creepy smile._

"_Sam," I said, turning back to her. "I don't know what's going on here, but I think we should le…" I trailed off when I saw her. She had it too. The yellow eyes, the evil smile, the loss of humanity._

"_No," I whispered. "No Sam. Don't leave me. You can't leave me now!" Her smile only grew wider and wider, until her lips began to part and the darkness started to escape. She laughed, but this time it wasn't that insanely happy, contagious laugh that I loved. This laugh was cold, mean, psychotic. And as she laughed the darkness kept pouring from her mouth, until the entire shop was dark and the only thing I could see were those yellow eyes all over the room, and the only sound I could hear was the awful laughter that filled my ears and strangled my mind._

_I had to make it stop. I had to get out of there. But when I tried to get up, I couldn't move my legs. So I just closed my eyes tight and covered my ears with my hands. But I could still hear the laughter, and I could still see those eyes._

"_How can you be doing this?" I asked. "You should be dead. How can you be here?"_

_The laughing only got louder. "Do you really want to know?" a raspy voice asked. I cringed a little at the sound. The voice was cold and harsh, like metal being scraped across a thousand chalkboards._

"_Y-yes," I said, though I really wasn't so sure. The laughing died down and I peeked my eyes open to see that the person sitting where Sam was supposed to be sitting was now bathed in yellow light, or maybe the light was actually coming from her. The woman's wrinkled, old face leaned in closer to mine, until there were just two or three very uncomfortable inches between us._

"_I'm everywhere, Boy."_

I sat straight up and looked around. I was in my room.

"Whew," I whispered aloud. "It was just a dream." I noticed it was still dark outside. I leaned over to look at my clock and nearly jumped in the air out of fright. For a second I thought I saw those eyes again, but it was just the book that Moira had given me. It was so tall that I had started using it as a nightstand, but I had never noticed before how it seemed to emanate the same weird yellowish glow that kept appearing in my dreams. I shook my head, and when I looked at the book again, the glow was gone and the only thing left glowing was the neon green 3:14 AM displayed on my alarm clock.

"That settles it," I mumbled, lying back down and pulling the covers over my head. "I've officially lost it."

* * *

"Knock knock," I said, opening the door to the apartment across the hall.

"Hey Freddie," Carly said cheerily, smiling as she set down her bowl of Vegetable Loops cereal. "You're here early."

"Sorry," I said. "I can go back home and come back later if you want."

She laughed. "It's cool. You want some breakfast?"

"Nah. I already ate. I can get started looking at the orders though if you'd like."

"Actually, could you bring the boxes down from the studio first? That would be a huge help."

"Sure thing." I ran up the stairs and into the iCarly studio, grabbing boxes filled with fake mustaches and mannequin parts. The studio was becoming especially junky lately, and we'd decided to auction off some of our old props to the fans as a way of cleaning up and maybe making a little money in the process.

I walked back down the stairs with the boxes just in time to see the elevator doors open, revealing a very sleepy looking Sam. "Man," she said, spotting me, "if I'd known I'd have to deal with nubs this early in the morning I would've slept at my own house."

"Well good morning to you too," I said. "You're certainly up early. It's not even ten-o-clock yet. I didn't think I'd ever see the day that Sam Puckett would get up before noon on a Saturday."

"Shut up," she said, grabbing a piece of pie from the refrigerator and plopping down in the seat next to Carly at the kitchen table. "I didn't sleep too well, alright?"

"Really?" I asked, staring at the two girls as I set the boxes down on the table. Carly was already dressed in her nice, neat, frilly clothes with her hair and makeup done perfectly, while Sam sat slumped over, clad in red plaid pajama pants and a Cuttlefish t-shirt that had definitely seen better days and swinging her bare feet back and forth underneath the table. Even after all these years it still puzzled me how two people could be so different and still be best friends.

"Yeah," said Sam, taking a big bite of pie. "Wha's ih to ooh?"

"Nothing," I muttered, walking to the computer and opening the website to check on the auctions. They had gone better than expected, and we'd gotten good prices for a lot of stuff that we considered to be useless junk. You can always count on super fans to find treasure in the trash.

"Carls, do you have any more pie?" Sam asked as she rummaged through the fridge, having already finished her unhealthy breakfast.

"Sorry," said Carly, rinsing her empty cereal bowl out in the sink. "That was the last piece. But we need your help with boxing things up to send to the fans anyway. Why don't you go get dressed and then come back here to help us?"

"Ugh! First the Queen of the Nubs shows up…" she started.

"Hey! Nubs have ears you know!"

"…and then you want me to work? Remind me never to get up early again." She stomped off to Carly's bedroom anyway and returned an impossibly short amount of time later fully dressed.

"Good girl," Carly smiled at her when she came back into the room.

"Nyeeh. Let's just get this over with."

And just like that, we were in business. Things went surprisingly quickly, with me spouting out the names and addresses while Carly and Sam boxed everything up and addressed the packages.

"Okay," said Carly, grabbing a small stuffed animal that looked like it was supposed to be a Dachshund. "Who gets the three-legged wiener dog?"

"Andrea Swain from Windsfield, Kansas. Six-seven-one-five-six." I popped a slice of pineapple into my mouth and snickered. "_Swain_."

"I can't believe some chick paid a hundred bucks for a stained wiener dog," said Sam, tossing the damaged toy at the box and looking absolutely disgusted. She forgot how disgusted she was when she noticed a tiny scab on Carly's arm.

"I told you fans would really want to buy stuff that's been on iCarly," Carly said. She looked down at the finger than kept reaching out and poking her arm. "What are you doing?"

"You've got a baby scab on your arm," Sam replied as if poking at another person's damaged skin was nothing out of the ordinary. For her it probably wasn't.

"Well leave it!" Carly slapped Sam's hand away. Sam walked away looking disappointed and I went back to looking through the orders on the website.

"Wow," I said, noticing the significant dollar figure for one particular item. "This is amazing."

"Someone finally friended you?" Sam said in mock excitement. For a second I flashed back to her image in my dream the previous night; one minute just regular old Sam and the next a yellow-eyed she demon. She walked away and I slowly picked up the large knife that I had been using to slice pineapple.

_What am I doing? _I thought suddenly. _That was just a dream. It wasn't even real. I have no reason to want to hurt Sam. Although she was being really annoying…_

_No. It's just that stupid prophecy getting to me. We don't have to be like that. We don't have to destroy each other. Sam said we could fight the prophecy, and we can. I just have to learn to control myself._

"Control, Freddie," I whispered to myself, closing my eyes tightly and trying to clear my head. "Bad thoughts lead to bad actions." I let out a deep breath and dropped the knife back on the counter. Luckily it didn't seem that anyone had noticed my internal mini-crisis.

"What's amazing?" Carly asked, walking towards the counter.

_Oh, right. Focus. Don't let them know anything is wrong. Just act normal. _"Guess what iCarly item sold for the most money by far."

"Fan of hammers?"

"Nope. The penny-tee."

"How much?"

"Almost three-hundred bucks."

"Seriously?"

"I knew it," Sam said. "I told you people. Did I tell you people?"

"You told us people," Carly said with a smile.

"Our fans are dying for these penny-tees!" she said. "We should make them, sell them, bank a few hundred thousand, quit school, and open that restaurant I've been talking about."

"No one wants to kill a live chicken then barbeque it," Carly pointed out.

Sam's face fell. "You don't know everything." She looked genuinely disappointed. I didn't think she was kidding quite as much as Carly seemed to think. But she shook it off quickly and moved on. "Whatever. Are we gonna do the penny-tee thing or not?"

"I think we should," I said. "Our fans want them and we can make a lot of cash."

"Sure," Carly added. "Why not?"

"Yes!" Sam jumped up on one of the kitchen chairs and did a little dance. "iCarly's in the penny-tee bid-ness!"

* * *

So, as it turns out, being "in the penny-tee bid-ness" wasn't as easy as we thought it was going to be. At all.

Okay, in the beginning it wasn't so bad. Carly and I were making pretty good progress…considering the fact that we were the only ones actually working.

"And that makes two dozen 'Fried Clowns done," Carly said, holding up the green penny-tee she'd just finished making.

"Which makes a total of seventy-four penny-tees completed and ready for shipping," I said, closing my laptop.

"Oh! And don't forget Sam's contribution. You know, NOTHING."

"Hey, where is that lazy blonde? She has flaked on us every night this week since–"

"Knock-a-doodle doo!" I was interrupted as the lazy blonde herself appeared in Carly's doorway, pushing a pair of hand trucks with several boxes stacked on them.

"Where have you been?" Carly asked, not even trying to hide her irritation with her less than helpful best friend.

"A place," she said, smirking mischievously. Just like Sam to give the vaguest explanation humanly possible.

"And what's in those boxes?"

"Items."

I studied the boxes closely. "You knock off a Fat Cake truck?" I knew my mistake as soon as she looked at me. "Oh, it's happening," I said as she grabbed my arm and threw me onto the polka-dotted love seat. "Sam!" I protested, but it was too late. "Come on don't–" I cried out in pain as the palm of her hand came into contact with the seat of my pants. Hard.

"Ah! Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it! GET OFF OF ME!"

She walked away suddenly as if nothing had happened. "So you really want to know what's in those boxes?"

"Please don't be Chinese fireworks. Please don't be Chinese fireworks," Carly muttered to herself. I walked over to stand beside her.

"My bottom stings," I complained. No one paid me any attention.

Sam grabbed an armful of pink shirts from one box and brought them over to where Carly was standing. "Thirty _finished _penny-tees."

"What?" Carly said in disbelief.

"No way," I added. And I was right. There was no way Sam could've finished thirty penny-tees all by herself. Okay, so maybe she _could _have. But there was no way she _would _have.

"And thirty more in that box _and _thirty more in that box," she said, pointing to the other boxes she had brought in.

Carly stared at her in shock. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Sam confirmed, putting on a fake voice along with her usual cocky attitude.

"How'd you make so many?"

"AND WHY DID YOU SPANK ME?"

"'Cause you irritate me," she said simply. She turned her attention back to Carly. "And I'll show you." She walked towards the door and turned around, beckoning us to follow her.

"She's motioning us in her direction," I told Carly.

"I see it." _Something's not right here, _she thought, confirming my exact suspicions without even knowing it. _She's definitely up to something…but I guess there's really no harm in following her. _

Despite my distrust of Sam's intentions, she had a point. This was only about t-shirts. What could she be doing that was really that bad? We followed her out of the room, making sure to stay alert and watchful just in case.

"So," Carly said as Sam led us out of the apartment, "where are you taking us?"

"You'll see." She didn't turn around, but I knew she had that up-to-no-good smirk of hers plastered across her face.

We walked in silence for a moment before a thought suddenly occurred to me. "Wait, you aren't taking us anywhere illegal, are you?"

"No," she sighed. "Though it might do you some good if I did. You could use some toughening up Fredwina."

"I'm plenty tough," I defended.

"Right. And _that's _why you cried like a little girl when I spanked your butt."

"I did _not _cry like a little girl!"

"Please," she said. "You make Girl Sprouts look like MMA fighters."

"Sam!" Carly reprimanded.

"What? It's not my fault he couldn't take one little beating."

"Well it's not my fault either! You really slapped it hard!" It was only then that I noticed we had entered a room. A dark, creepy room.

"Why are you taking us to the basement?" Carly asked.

"You wanna know how I made so many penny-tees?" she asked. "Check it out." We looked down the stairs where she was motioning, and what we saw was worse than anything we could've imagined.

Inside that basement was one of the worst, most unbelievably cruel things I'd ever seen. Children, dozens of them, were working in the boiling hot basement, making penny-tees like their lives depended on it while sweat poured from their little foreheads. I couldn't believe my eyes. I never thought that even Sam could be that heartless.

"Who are they?" Carly asked.

"Momma's little helpers," she answered. "They're fourth graders from St. Mary's right down the street."

"You got a bunch of fourth graders to make penny-tees?"

"Yep," she said, looking proud of herself. "And I'm only paying them five bucks a day."

"Miss Puckett," said a little girl, walking up to Sam timidly. "I got a cut on my arm."

"Aw," said Sam, looking at the injured arm. "Let me take care of that."

For a second I thought she might actually show the girl some compassion. Instead, she grabbed the roll of duct tape sitting beside her and wrapped it roughly around the girl's arm.

"Back to work now," she said in a babyish voice.

"But I–"

She was interrupted as Sam pulled an air horn seemingly out of thin air. It sounded and the girl ran away, looking utterly terrified. I looked at Carly, who looked just as shocked as I was.

"This is _worse_ than Chinese fireworks," she said.

* * *

Everything went downhill from there. Carly and I tried to solve the problem by taking on half of Sam's employees and giving them better working conditions to show that there was no need to be mean to get work done. It didn't work out quite as well as we'd planned.

Long story short, maybe paying them beforehand for the entire work week wasn't the best idea after all. And as it turns out, fourth graders are a lot smarter and a lot more devious than they appear. Though maybe they just picked that up from Sam.

Sam's method didn't work out either. It also turns out that fourth graders will only put up with so much before they quit on you. So suddenly, we were back to just the three of us again with no workers and a lot more penny-tees to be made.

"Smoothies?" Carly suggested when Sam told us that her workers had quit too. Sam and I nodded our heads, both in need of something to cheer us up.

The walk to the Groovy Smoothie was a quiet one. I guess no one really knew what to say. _Maybe there isn't anything to say, _I thought, but I knew I was kidding myself. There was plenty to say, but it might go unsaid forever just because none of us knew where to start. I shook my head to clear my thoughts as we entered the smoothie shop, only to run into some familiar fourth grade faces.

"Carly, Freddie," said the boy, Cody, who had worked for Carly and me.

"Sam," Allison scowled.

"Fourth graders," Sam responded coldly.

I pulled Carly and Sam aside, interrupting Sam and the two fourth graders' staring contest. "Listen," I said. "I think we should apologize to them."

"Why?" the girls said in unison.

"Sam, you had them working in a sweat shop! I think it's pretty obvious why you should apologize." She hung her head in shame. "And as for us Carly, I think we need to apologize too. Neither of us ever told them how people are supposed to behave at work. It's no wonder they took advantage of us. We shouldn't be mad at them for that."

"Yeah," she said. "I guess so."

"Good," I said. "Hey T-Bo?"

"Hey, Freddie! What can I do for you?"

"Can I get some smoothies for the three of us and our two friends here?" I said, gesturing to the fourth graders.

"You sure can," he said. "The usual for you three?"

"Yep."

"And two Blueberry Blitzes for us," said Allison.

"Coming right up. Can I interest any of you in a chili dog?" He pulled a stick with several chili dogs strung onto it out from underneath the counter. "I'm having a special. By four chili dogs get a smoothie for half price!"

"No thanks T-Bo," I said.

"Oh," he said, looking dejected. He put the chili dog stick away and started putting fruit in the blender for the smoothies. A moment later we all had our drinks and the fourth graders looked like they were about to leave.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Can we talk to you guys for a minute?"

They looked at each other as if to ask _"Should we?"_ "Sure," Cody said finally. They sat down at the nearest table and we all took our seats next to them. They looked at us expectantly.

"Well?" said Allison. "We're waiting."

"Say it," I whispered, giving Sam a small nudge.

She sighed. "I'm sorry I worked you guys so hard, and that I didn't give you enough breaks, and fed you, you know…animal food."

"Okay," Allison shrugged.

"And Freddie and I apologize for what happened with you guys," said Carly.

"It's our fault for letting you think that work was just about taking breaks and having fun all day."

"Animal food?"

"It strengthens hooves!" Sam defended.

"Look," I said. "The point is, we've got a lot of penny-tees to make. So we'd like to start fresh and work with all of you guys again."

"Well, thanks," said Allison.

"But sorry," Cody finished.

"We started our own penny-tee business."

"WHAT?"

"Yep. Look around."

We nervously looked around the shop. Sure enough, there were people all over the place wearing penny-tees with various slogans on them, even some that I didn't recognize. Those fourth graders had stolen our idea.

"You little punks!" Sam exclaimed.

"You can't take our penny-tee idea!"

"What are you gonna do?" Cody said, looking unworried. "Sue us?"

"We're ten."

"Good luck."

"No!" Carly said. "Good luck to you, Sir! The only reason our penny-tees are so popular is 'cause they say really funny creative things on them."

"That Carly and Sam think of," I added.

"You can't steal our comedic brains," said Sam. Oh yeah. We had them.

"So ha!" said Carly. "And once again, ha!"

"Doesn't matter if we can't think of funny things to put on penny-tees," said Allison.

"'Cause we can hire writers who can. Arthur! Jake! What'cha got?"

We turned to see two more fourth graders, both sporting giant notepads and devious grins.

"Pork lips," said Arthur.

"Flab attack," said Jake.

"Butter hose."

"Puppy snot."

"Cheese bubbles."

"Rubber toes."

"Finger face."

"Tasty clown."

"Purple Jester."

"Fried cousins."

"Who wants a chicken pot pie?" T-Bo asked, shoving a different food-stick in our faces.

"Not me."

"No thanks."

"Shut up T-Bo."

We walked out of the smoothie shop and looked at the sky. It was starting to get dark.

"I'm going to head back home," Carly said. "You guys coming?"

"Yeah. I guess I'll – hey!"

"What?" Carly asked.

Sam shifted her gaze back to me. "You better not have done what I think you just did."

"What do you mean?" I said, feigning innocence. "Oh, you mean just now when I slapped your butt? Yeah, I did that." Her face turned red with anger and she narrowed her eyes at me. "What's the matter? Don't like it when you're on the receiving end of the spank?"

"Dude–"

"Sam, calm down. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Like Freddie temporarily lost his mind." _What in the world was he thinking?_

"Yeah? Well's he's about to lose something else!"

"Sam, no!" Carly grabbed Sam's arms in a desperate attempt to restrain her.

"Let go of me Carls!" Of course, Sam could've freed herself from Carly's grips anytime she wanted, but she never risked hurting Carly.

"Not if you're going to kill Fre–"

"Let her go."

Both girls looked up at me strangely. "Huh?"

"Are you sure Freddie? You know she's going to try to kill you, right?"

"I can handle it," I said calmly, though on the inside I wasn't really so sure. "Go home Carly. I don't want you in the middle of this. We'll meet you there later."

"Well…if you're sure…"

"I'm sure. I'll be fine. Let her go."

_Yep. He's definitely lost it, _she thought, but she slowly released Sam's arms anyway. She looked back and forth between Sam and me several times before finally shaking her head and walking away. _I'll never understand those two,_ was the last thing I heard her think before she was gone.

"Benson…" Sam growled when Carly was finally out of sight.

"Sam, listen," I said, holding up my hands. "Before you kill me, I didn't do that because I wanted to. I did that because I needed to talk to you."

"Oh, sorry! I wasn't aware that ass-slapping was a new form of communication!" She took a few steps toward me and held up her fist. "Any last words Fredward?"

"Listen, I just needed to get rid of Carly."

"Well that's a stupid answer. You might want to elaborate on that if you want to get out of the beat down you're about to receive."

"Sam, if you'll just listen to me for a minute…"

"I'd talk faster if I were you."

"…I think you'd see it my way…"

"I haven't got all day Benson."

"…so if you'd just put your fist down for a second…"

"Tick-tock, tick-tock…"

"I miss you! Okay?"

I regretted saying the words as soon as they left my mouth. Sam froze up, her eyebrows furrowing together and her fist still hanging in mid-air. I braced myself for the most brutal beating of the century.

Instead, she was suddenly doubled over, laughing like a maniac. "You what?" she asked between fits of laughter. "Boy, Carly was right. You really have lost it."

"I'm serious Sam," I said.

"Well I've got good news for you then," she said, straightening up and throwing her arms out to the sides. "Here I am! Ta-da!"

"You know what?" I said. "Forget it." I could've sworn I saw her face fall for just an instant as I started to walk away.

"Whoa whoa whoa," she said, running in front of me and blocking my path. "You can't just storm off like that. That's my bit."

"Can you blame me Sam? You won't even listen to me!" I walked around her and continued on my way.

"Doesn't feel so great when the only person you can talk to won't even listen to what you have to say, huh?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to look at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She gave a small chuckle, low and sad. "What do you think it means?"

"How am I supposed to know? You're not exactly the easiest person to figure out you know."

"Well maybe if you ever actually tried–"

"If I ever actually tried? Are you kidding me?" I stepped closer. "Sam, ever since I met you, all I've tried to do is figure you out. I thought I finally had…or enough that we could finally start getting along. It was nice. And then_ boom_, all of a sudden you hate my guts again. And I don't even know what I did!"

"You want to know what you did?" she asked, walking away as she talked.

I followed close behind her. "Yeah, kind of."

"It's like I said before. You didn't do anything. You _didn't _listen to me, you _didn't_ trust me, you _didn't _keep your promise, and you _didn't _apologize."

"Yeah, well you didn't…wait. Promise? What promise?"

"Nothing," she said. "Forget I said that."

"Sam. What promise?"

"How about the promise that we'd try to fight this prophecy together, huh? Ring any bells?"

"What? I thought I was fighting the prophecy just fine. I didn't fall in love with you and I sure as heck didn't kill you. Sounds to me like mission accomplished so far."

"It's not that easy," she sighed. "You at least have to try not to piss me off."

"Please, you are such a hypocrite! Pissing me off is like your biggest goal in life!"

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

"I don't know. You're Freddie. It just is."

"Well that makes perfect sense."

"Shut up."

I decided it was probably best not to push her too far too quickly, so I did as she said and didn't say anything else until she spoke up a minute later.

"So what did you mean?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"You said you missed me. What did you mean?"

"I don't know…I just miss you. I miss the way you used to be."

"What are you blathering on about now? Nothing happened to me, Dork. I'm exactly the same."

"No you're not. You're different. When you do iCarly you put on your happy face and try to have a good time, but you don't have fun, not really. Not like you used to. Maybe it looks that way to someone who doesn't know you, but I can tell. Your heart's not in it anymore."

"Well can you really blame me?" she shouted, spinning around. "How am I supposed to act like everything's fine and I'm having a good time when I know, I just _know_ that I'm going to kill the one person who knows anything about what I'm going through?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I could tell that opening up like this wasn't easy for her. I sat down in the middle of the sidewalk and motioned for her to sit with me, which she did. We both just sat there for a while, watching the city and listening to the cluttered sound of car horns and engines that was Seattle in the late afternoon, coupled with the deep, rhythmic sighs of our own breathing.

"Having these stupid powers was hard enough to begin with," she said finally as she fixed her gaze on something in the distance I couldn't seem to find. "Then I find out this…this _prophecy _thing and I try to pretend like it doesn't have to happen, but then you have to go and ignore me like that and I know. I know we can't beat this thing, Freddie. Either we're going to fall in love with each other or we're going to kill each other, and right now, the love thing isn't looking so likely."

"What makes you think that anything like that would happen? I thought you were the one who said we could fight the prophecy."

She sighed heavily. "I've just had my doubts lately."

"Why?"

"Just…seeing _her _everywhere, and then you not even believing me about it, and me getting mad at you…it just seemed like destroying each other was looking more and more likely. And then the nightmares…"

"Wait. You've been having nightmares?"

"And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like fighting the prophecy and being the hero just wasn't for me," she said, ignoring my question completely.

"So you decided to be even more hostile towards me than usual? And to run a sweat shop full of fourth graders?"

"Might as well get used to a life of evil. You know, if I'm going to be killing you and all."

"Will you stop saying that? What happened to the Sam that could do anything she set her mind to? What happened to the energetic Sam that could be crazy and hilarious and just lose herself when she was in front of the camera? You wanted to know what I meant when I said I missed you? That's what I meant. That Sam is gone, and I miss her. And…I miss us being close."

She scoffed. "We were never close." She looked at me and must've seen a hurt look in my eyes, because her face fell and she dropped her gaze to her shoes. "Sorry," she mumbled.

I tried to think of something else to say, anything, but I just couldn't find the right words. So instead we just sat and watched the cars go by and the blazing red sun set over the city, at peace for the time being.

"Come on," said Sam, getting up suddenly. "Let's go Freddork." I got up and we walked back to the Bushwell in silence, but this time the silence was a comfortable one.

The Bushwell's lobby was quiet when we walked in the front doors. Lewbert the doorman was asleep at his desk, his wart-covered cheek resting comfortably in a pool of his own saliva. We tip-toed past so we wouldn't wake him, thankful that we didn't have to put up with his psychotic screeching at the moment. Of course, as soon as we entered the elevator, Sam just _had _to pull out her air horn. Who knows where she even got the thing; she seemed to pull it out of nowhere again. But it didn't really matter, because the doors closed just in time to see a delirious Lewbert jump about six feet in the air, screaming obscenities at the "stupid little urchins" who interrupted his "beauty sleep."

"Sam?" I said when the elevator was nearing the eighth floor and our laughter had died down a bit.

"Mmm?"

"Listen." We arrived on the eighth floor and stepped into the hall. "Don't worry too much about this whole prophecy thing. We control our lives, not some stupid book."

"That stupid book was right before. And in case you haven't noticed, we're not that different from Henry and Kate. And Carly's not that different from Moira, aside from the whole psychic thing. Heck, that Artie guy that married Moira even sounds kind of like Gibby."

"So? What does that have to do with us?"

"Wake up and smell the prophecy Benson. History's repeating itself, and we're destined to end up just like Kate and Henry. Face it, we're screwed."

"Not necessarily. I still think we can fight this thing if we try. Besides, history's not repeating itself. We're not _exactly _like Henry and Kate. And I can guarantee you that our friends aren't exactly like Moira and Artie, even besides the fact that they aren't psychic. I mean really. Carly and _Gibby_? Like that would ever happen."

I opened the door to apartment 8C and followed Sam inside. What I saw in Carly's apartment was so shocking that it made me stop short, unable to speak or even scream. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. But I wasn't.

Sure enough, sitting impossibly close together on the small striped couch in the middle of the living room, were Carly and Gibby. Making out.

I tried to get control over my racing thoughts, but there was only one thing my brain could manage at the moment.

_Oh, we are so screwed._


	22. iHate Wisconsin

**Hello. Sorry this chapter took a while. I kind of made it up on the spot. I wasn't even going to include iDo in this story, but I decided to write this chapter at the last minute just so I could include the Carly and Gibby jokes. Is that bad that I wrote an entire chapter just to get in a few lines of basically pointless dialogue? Eh, I think it was worth it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I am but a lowly fan. Please don't sue me.**

"Did you remember to pack sunscreen? And a first aid kit? And antibacterial underwear?"

"Check, check, and check," I said, trying in vain to sneak out the door before my mom could think of any more unnecessary things I "needed" to bring with me to Wisconsin.

"What about–"

"Mom. I'm only going to be gone for one night. I think I have everything I could possibly need."

"But what if there's a snow storm? You could get stuck there!"

"It's barely August!"

"Well you never know! Tomorrow could be the start of a second ice age for all we know!"

I sighed and set my duffle bag on the floor. "I highly doubt that will happen. But even if it did, I'm prepared enough that I could live in Wisconsin for _months_ and be okay. I'll be fine."

"Well…I suppose you're right. Oh Freddie, you know I don't mean to be so over-protective. You're a smart young man. It's just…it's hard for me to accept the fact that my baby boy…isn't a baby anymore." Her voice cracked a little at the end and her eyes grew moist.

"Mom, don't cr–"

The next thing I knew, I was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug, my mother bawling on my shoulder. "Y-you b-be a g-good b-b-boy," she sobbed loudly. "O-okay?"

"I promise," I said, patting her back lightly. Mom hugged me tighter. "Mom," I choked. "Can't…breathe."

"Sorry." She let go of me and wiped her eyes. "I guess you should probably get going now." I nodded. "So…goodbye." She pulled me into another hug, once again cutting off my oxygen supply.

"Bye Mom!" I said, struggling to free myself while simultaneously grabbing my bag and opening the front door.

"Make good choices!" she called after me just as the door clicked shut.

"Whew," I breathed when I was finally in the hallway. I didn't think I'd ever get out of there. I glanced at my watch and saw that I still had an hour and a half before the plane took off; plenty of time to get to the airport and check luggage…assuming Spencer and the girls were ready.

"Put all your weight into it!" I heard as I stepped into apartment 8-C.

"I _am_ putting all my weight into it!" Carly retorted. "I don't weigh that much you know!"

"Well get heavier!"

"I can't! Jeez, what did you pack in this thing anyway? A body?"

"Nah," said Sam, taking a break from tugging on the over-packed suitcase's zipper. "I'd never get that past security."

"Then what did you pack that's taking up so much room?" I asked.

She glanced up at me, noticing for the first time that I was in the room. "You know…" she said carefully. "Clothes, soap, toothpaste…Fat Cakes." She mumbled the last word under her breath in the hopes that Carly wouldn't hear it.

"You packed _Fat Cakes _in your suitcase?" Carly stood up, causing the suitcase to spring wide open.

"Well they won't let me take them in my carry-on!" Sam defended. "I still say most people wouldn't even know how to turn a Fat Cake into a bomb anyway."

"Do you know how?" I asked.

She looked down at her shoes. "Not as far as you know."

"Sam," Carly said. "How many boxes of Fat Cakes did you pack?"

"Oh, you know. One, two…six…"

"_Six?_"

"Maybe seven."

"Sam! No wonder we couldn't zip it! Why would you pack seven boxes of Fat Cakes? We could always buy you some when we get to Wisconsin."

"You don't know that!" said Sam, her irrational outburst sounding disturbingly familiar. "We all know Wisconsin is a pretty lame place. What if they don't have any Fat Cakes there? I _need _Fat Cakes. You _know _I need Fat Cakes. Especially since you made me cut back on meatballs. I have to have something to fill the void!"

"Substituting greasy spheres of meat with artificial-flavoring-filled garbage probably isn't going to make you any healthier," Carly said.

"Shhh…" Sam took a box of the pink cellophane-wrapped snacks out of her suitcase and stroked it gently. "She didn't mean it Baby."

Carly threw her hands in the air and let out an exasperated sigh. "You're unbelievable!"

"Hey! I'm believable…"

"Whatever. You know what _I _believe? I believe you need to take out all those Fat Cakes if you want there to be any chance that you'll actually get that suitcase zipped."

"No! I can zip it! I just need you to sit on it again–"

"Nuh-uh." Carly said, crossing her arms. "No way am I getting back on that thing. My butt's still sore from sitting on it for so long!"

"Well it's not my fault you barely weigh one-hundred pounds! We just need someone heavier."

I probably should've run for the hills as soon as I saw Sam turning in my direction. But suddenly she was facing me, looking straight into my eyes, and I found myself unable to move. "What?" I asked nervously. She narrowed her eyes and smiled. Realization dawned on me, but before I could run away, she tackled me to the ground and dragged me to her suitcase, shoving me onto it with enough force to knock the wind out of a professional wrestler.

"Sam!" I yelled as she pinned me to the top of the bag with one arm while simultaneously pulling on the zipper with the other. "What do you think you're doing? Let me up!"

"Just hold on a minute!" she said, setting her foot heavily on my back so she could free the arm that she'd been using to hold me down and tug on the zipper with both arms.

"No! This is completely uncalled for!"

"Your face is completely uncalled for! Now hold still!"

"No! I–" I stopped short as I heard a sharp zip.

"There," said Sam, getting up and dusting herself off. "It's zipped. Now was that so bad?"

"Yes!"

"Don't be such a baby."

"Guys…" Carly started.

"Oh, _I'm_ the baby? I'm not the one who couldn't bear to be without Fat Cakes for one day!"

"Guys!"

"Oh yeah? Well I'm not the one who–"

"GUYS!"

We both turned towards Carly, who had her arms crossed over her chest and was giving us both a deathly glare.

"Sorry," we said in unison.

She rolled her eyes. "Of all the people to travel with, it had to be you two," she muttered, grabbing the handle of her own pink suitcase.

"Hey, it's not too late to invite Gibby to come along and be your date," Sam said. I elbowed her in the ribs while trying hard to suppress a chuckle.

"For the last time, I don't like Gibby!"

"Sure. That's why you were trying to suck his face off the other day."

"Sam," I whispered warningly.

"It was just a kiss! And as I said before, I don't even know why I kissed him. It's not like I _wanted _to. I just…I think I felt sorry for him because he was all upset that he and Tasha had broken up, and he kept looking at me with those big, hazel eyes, and…what am I saying? We're not talking about this."

"Okay," Sam agreed.

"And besides, even if there _was_ something between me and Gibby, which there isn't, he and Tasha are back together now. And she can never know what happened. Not that anything _did _happen."

"Of course not."

"In fact, so little happened that it's really not even worth mentioning it. So can we _please _just stop talking about it?"

"Carly," I said gently. "You're the only one still talking about it."

She stared at me for a moment before letting out a heavy groan and walking towards the door, suitcase in hand. "Let's just go." Sam and I followed her out the door, trying hard not to start laughing. We were nearly out of the hotel lobby when Spencer came out of the elevator, half running and half tripping over himself to catch up to us, yelling that we had forgotten him.

Soon we were off, riding to the airport in Spencer's yellow Schmoltzwagon Insect. We hadn't gotten very far down the road when Sam started complaining. But Carly, apparently still a little peeved about the whole Gibby thing, didn't look like she was going to give in this time.

"No Sam. You already almost made us late with your last-minute packing."

"But I'm so thirsty Carls! You can't deny a thirsty person a drink. I could get dehydrated and die!"

"Here," I said, reaching into my suitcase and pulling out an unopened bottle of water. "My mom always makes me pack extras."

"I'm not thirsty for water, Diphthong!" she said, flicking me in the forehead. "Momma wants a smoothie!"

"Wait a minute," Spencer said. "Is this the week they're having that half-price deal on the Super-Slurper Mega-Smoothies?"

"It's…possible," Sam said. "Anyway, we still have over an hour before the plane leaves, and the airport isn't that far. Can't you just let me out at the Groovy Smoothie really quick? You don't even have to park. I'll run!"

"Well…" said Carly, exchanging a look with her brother. "I guess so…"

"Yes!" said Sam, fist-pumping the air. One-hundred-and-twenty-eight ounces of smoothie goodness, here I come!" Spencer pulled into the Groovy Smoothie parking lot and Sam jumped out of the car before it even stopped moving.

"Can't we just leave her here?" I asked as she ran into the shop.

"You wouldn't want that," Carly said.

"Yeah," Spencer added. "You know you'd be disappointed if Sam didn't come along."

"I have no idea what you guys are talking about. That girl drives me crazy." Carly and Spencer exchanged yet another look just before Sam came bouncing back into the car, a smoothie cup the size of a small bucket clenched in her fist.

"Told you I'd be quick," she said, taking a large sip of her even larger Strawberry Splat.

"Sam," Carly said. "You _did _pay for that, right?"

"Uhhh…yep. But Spence, you may want to drive a little faster."

* * *

"I'm sorry ma'am, but you can't bring that with you."

Sam eyed the security guard with obvious contempt. "Why not?"

The security guard was a big burly man, a good foot and a half taller than Sam. Even so, I swear I heard him gulp. "Well, nobody's allowed to bring liquids through security. It's a rule. I'm afraid you're going to have to throw it away."

Sam just stared at him. He stared back, too afraid to even blink. They stayed that way for what seemed like hours when suddenly, Sam shot past him and through the metal detector, clutching her oversized smoothie for dear life.

The security guard chased after her, catching up to her with surprising speed for someone of his size, and tried to take the smoothie from her. The poor guard was flat on his back in seconds, a very angry Sam pinning him to the floor with one hand and still clutching her precious smoothie with the other.

Two more men in uniforms showed up quickly to pry Sam off of their fellow guard. She fought back, but luckily they got a hold of her without her causing either of them any significant damage. The next thing we knew, we were in a holding room while Carly tried to reason with the guards to let us on the plane.

"Okay," she said after she had been talking to the guards for several minutes. "He says they'll still let us on the plane if Sam gets rid of her smoothie and promises not to tackle anyone else."

"But I still have ninety ounces to go! I can't quit now!"

"Well you just have to finish as quickly as possible," Carly said. "You've got…" she checked her watch, "five minutes."

Sam's eyes grew wide and she quickly put clamped her mouth around the straw. But even with Sam's ability to eat and drink things faster than any normal human should be able to, we all knew we'd be missing our plane. I opened my laptop and started typing a new blog about our adventures, fittingly titled "How Sam Ruined Our Trip." She caught sight of it just as I was about to post it and punched me in the arm, still gulping down her smoothie as fast as she could.

"Sam, the plane just left," I said. "There's no point in hurrying now."

"Mmfmfmfmf," she said, not even bothering to take the straw out of her mouth.

"I can't understand you when you're drinking your smoothie."

She groaned in annoyance and released the straw from her teeth. "I said, yes there is. Carly's talking to the airline dude right now to get us on another flight. Trust me Fredlumps, we'll be out of here in no time."

* * *

As it turns out, "no time" finally came about three hours later. Fortunately, Sam had finished her drink. Unfortunately, she decided right when we were boarding the plane that she had to use the bathroom.

"No way." Carly crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not making us late for _another _flight."

"But I have to go so bad!"

"Didn't I tell you to go when you finished that ginormous smoothie?"

"Well I didn't have to go then!"

"So much for 'bladder of steal,'" I mumbled. She flicked me in the head. "Ow!"

"Even bladders of steal have to take a wazz sometimes," she said.

"Well your wazz will just have to wait," said Carly. "You can pee in the airplane bathroom."

"But–"

"Nope."

"But–"

"No!"

"But–"

"NYET!"

"Nyet?" I asked.

"Russian for no."

"Ah."

The line moved up and Spencer handed over his and Carly's boarding passes. Sam took that as her opportunity to try to run away, but I managed to catch her and pry the boarding pass out of her hands. I handed over both of our passes and grabbed Sam's arm to pull her onto the plane. She pouted the whole way, but at least she didn't tackle me.

"Oh," I heard Carly say as we stepped onto the plane behind her and Spencer. Sam pushed past them roughly and ran towards the bathroom. "Wow this plane is small."

It was true. The plane was about as small as they came; one of those with two seats on one side and one on the other, without any first-class section. Carly gulped audibly and Spencer patted her arm.

"It'll be okay," he reassured her. She didn't look so convinced. Carly's claustrophobia seemed to be growing worse with age; she couldn't even ride in Spencer's car for very long anymore unless the top was down. Riding in a plane this small was not going to be easy for her.

Spencer led Carly to their seats and took the window, leaving Carly with the isle where, hopefully, she would feel like she had a little more space. I took the seat behind them just as Sam was coming out of the bathroom.

She stopped when she came to where I was sitting and looked at me with a bored expression. "No," she said. "No way am I flying to all the way to Wisconsin sitting next to a nub."

"Sam," Spencer said, turning around in his seat. "Carly is freaking out…"

"I am NOT freaking out!" _I'm freaking out I'm freaking out I'm freaking out!_

"…and I just don't feel comfortable leaving her alone. You think maybe you could tolerate Fredd-o for a little while?"

"Ugh, fine!" she groaned. "But I call the window seat."

"But I'm already sitting in the window seat!"

"Yeah…that's really too bad. Up. Now."

I sighed. It was pointless to argue with her. So I got up and she got her window seat. But the way she bounced up and down like an excited five-year-old as the plane took off and she watched all the big Seattle buildings get smaller and smaller, well, it made it kind of worth it.

* * *

"Attention passengers, we have now landed in Milwaukee. Enjoy your stay, and thank you for flying Pi Airlines."

I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. The plane had just landed and people were starting to get off. Carly bolted off the plane as quickly as she could and Spencer ran after her, leaving me with Sam.

That's when I realized that my head was leaning on something very soft and…blonde. I nearly jumped out of my seat, but luckily, Sam was a heavy sleeper and didn't notice. She just groaned and clung to my arm tighter, forcing her pillow to stay put.

I had two options. I could either wake Sam up and risk having my head ripped off, or I could try to move Sam off my shoulder without her noticing, also risking having my head ripped off if she woke up by accident. Fortunately I didn't need to do either, because Sam very suddenly sat bolt upright, opening her eyes wide and letting out a gasp.

At first I thought that it was because she had realized she was sleeping on my shoulder, but then I realized she wasn't paying me any attention at all. She was looking straight ahead, her eyes glazed and frightened.

"Sam," I said carefully. "Are you alright?"

She turned her head sharply and her eyes met mine. "Yeah. I just…I just had a bad dream was all." It was weird to see Sam looking so vulnerable. I kind of missed her tough, I-don't-care attitude. "Must've been because I saw your face too soon before falling asleep. That could give anyone nightmares." Ah, there she was.

I rolled my eyes. "Come on. Let's go. We've got a wedding to go to tomorrow."

* * *

Gordon and Jodi's wedding was odd, to say the least. It started with the bride proclaiming her love for Spencer, went on to have an emotionally unstable Gordon wet his pants while trying to serenade Jodi to win her back, and ended with Carly doing the serenading instead. And Spencer kept going on about the roundness of his butt the whole time. But in the end, Jodi and Gordon got married and probably went on to live as happily-ever-after as is possible in Wisconsin.

We were all very glad to get home. Especially Carly, who was not at all happy to see that the flight back was just as small as the one going there had been. And Mom was very glad to see that I got home safe and un-tattooed.

But I had to say, I was a little worried about sending Sam back home by herself. The words she'd spoken the night before the wedding when I'd found her curled up in the corner of the bathroom, trying not to make too much noise while the tears streamed down her pale cheeks, still rang in my ears.

"_You don't know what it's like Freddie! Seeing those eyes every time you go to sleep. I keep hoping the nightmares will stop, but they never do. They just keep happening every night."_

"_Sam…I don't know how to tell you this, but…I've had the same nightmare. Same exact one. Only mine stopped weeks ago."_

"_Boo-hoo," she said sarcastically. "You had nightmares for a while and then they stopped. It's the same thing with me except for one thing. Mine didn't stop. They got worse."_

She'd refused to talk about it anymore after that. She just dried her eyes on her arm and told me to go back to sleep; she'd be there in a minute. I went back to bed, but I didn't go back to sleep that night. I stayed awake, waiting for the bathroom door to open again. It never did.

_Uh-oh! I did it once more. I toyed with your miiiind, kept playing the game. Oh Baby, Baby…_

I groaned and picked up my phone. "Ginger Fox? Really Sam? And at one in the morning? _Really?_"

Sam didn't say anything. All I could hear on the other line was her soft breathing. I sighed. "Nightmare?"

"Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Then what _do _you want me to talk about?"

"I don't know. Something that doesn't have to do with ghosts or prophecies or psychic powers. Just…talk to me."

"Well…um…my mom gave me a full body exam when I got home to make sure I hadn't gotten any tattoos or piercings while I was gone."

I heard a light chuckle through the earpiece. "Nub."

"You know, most people would be nice to someone they woke up at one in the morning with an obnoxious Ginger Fox ringtone."

"Yeah, most people probably would."

It was my turn to chuckle. "You're one of a kind Sam."

"Momma knows. So what else did Crazy do to you when you got home?"

"Well, first she hugged me so tight I thought I might explode from lack of oxygen. And then the interrogation began…"


	23. iSpill Most of the Beans

**Wow, over 300 reviews! I hereby award you all this invisible medal of awesomeness. :)**

**Disclaimer: If iCarly was mine, Seddie would've happened long ago. Also, there would be unicorns. Killer ones. Because everyone knows that when you have a big pointy horn growing out of your forehead, it isn't there just for decoration.**

The day our secret got out was a confusing one to begin with. I mean, I already knew about the whole Seddie versus Creddie debate among a large portion of our fan base, but I had no idea that the fans were really that crazy. No matter how much we tried to reason with them, they just wouldn't listen.

"Freddie and I aren't in a romantic relationship," Carly told a fan with a giant bow on her head, cotton swab earrings on her ears, and a terrible lisp.

"Resthpectfully," the girl said, "I dithagree."

"Yeah!" came another voice, this one thankfully lisp-free. The owner of the voice popped out of the crowd holding a jumbo-sized Pear Pad. "If you look here at my Pear Pad, you'll see screen caps I've taken from actual iCarly webisodes proving that Carly and Freddie _do _like each other."

"SEDDIE!" yelled a chubby guy in the back, standing up and punching the air with his fist.

The crowd went wild, but the girl regained attention by showing some pictures of Carly and me standing close to each other or looking at each other, supposedly proving that we were in love. We denied it and the girl reluctantly sat back down.

"Next question," Sam said. A hundred hands shot into the air eagerly. "You. Man-boobs in the back there."

A middle-aged man who did indeed have man-boobs underneath his "Creddie" t-shirt stood up. "Uh, yeah. I've gotta agree with Hair Bow and Pear Pad. Anybody who's ever even been to iCarly dot com can easily see that Carly and Freddie are in love."

Everyone in the crowd went wild again. Well, everyone except Adam, Carly's latest infatuation whom she had invited to Webicon. He sat up front with his arms crossed over his chest, not looking too happy about all this Creddie stuff.

"No, we're not!" I said. I was starting to get a little annoyed with these fans. They just wouldn't give up.

"We really aren't," Carly confirmed. She looked at Adam. _Oh, he looks mad._ "We really aren't," she repeated.

"ADMIT IT!" cried a scrawny boy in a sweater vest.

"Sit down!" his friend whispered harshly.

"Relax," said Sam, leaning towards Carly lazily. "Momma's got this."

And that was when Sam told the entire world that Carly and I were in love.

* * *

"I'm going to go take a shower," said Carly as we walked into her apartment after a long day at Webicon.

"What-evs."

"Hasta luego Carlita."

"Aruthor bids you adieu!"

"Aw," said Sam. "I liked Adu. He was the only normal-ish fan at that monkey circus."

Carly rolled her eyes and smiled tiredly before starting up the stairs towards the bathroom.

"Well," said Spencer. "I'm going to the store."

"What for?" I asked.

"To buy some low-fat parmesan cheese," he replied, as though it should have been obvious.

"Aren't you going to change out of your costume first?" I had a feeling he'd get some funny stares from the supermarket patrons if he went to buy his cheese in his shiny blue Aruthor costume that he'd worn to Webicon.

Spencer shifted his gaze from side to side nervously. Suddenly he turned and bolted for the door. "I won't change and you can't make me!" he cried, running into the hall.

"Well," I said, turning to Sam. "Looks like it's just you and me."

"Ew," said Sam as she plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV, though her voice didn't reflect as much disgust as she had intended. I rolled my eyes and sat down beside her, only to find a pair of feet land in my lap a moment later.

We watched "Celebrities Underwater" for a few minutes, but I couldn't concentrate. There was something I wanted to talk to Sam about, and finally I couldn't keep it in anymore. "Sam," I started.

"Shhh," she said. "Watching TV."

"I thought you hated Celebrities Underwater."

"I do, but this week they have that hobnocker Wade Collins. I hear he doesn't swim well. I'd pay money to watch him drown."

"Sam! That's terrible!" She just shrugged and went back to staring at the television. "What is a hobnocker anyway?"

She gave me a shifty glance. "You really want to know?"

"On second thought," I said nervously. "Maybe it's best that I don't know after all."

She let out a breathy chuckle. "Smart boy."

"But I do still want to talk to you."

"If this is about my feet being in your lap, I'm not taking them out so you can just forget it."

"That's not what I was about to ask."

"Well how am I supposed to know what you're thinking? I can't exactly read your mind you know," she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, her lips turned upward slightly. I felt my mouth tugging upwards as well, but quickly shook it off.

"I'm serious Sam," I said. "I need to talk to you about what happened today."

"Ugh!" she groaned. "What part of 'watching TV' don't you understand?"

"Sam, why did you tell everyone that Carly and I were in love?"

Sam was silent for so long that I started to think that she was just going to ignore me, but after what seemed like hours she finally spoke up. "It wasn't _everyone_," she defended, eyes still glued to Wade at he emerged from the water sputtering for air. "There were only like a hundred iCarly nerds there."

"Yes. iCarly nerds. iCarly nerds who have video phones and can post things on the internet faster than the speed of light."

"Look, I said I was sorry, alright?"

"No you didn't!"

"Yeah, well…it was implied. I don't see what the big deal is anyway. I mean really Fredward, do you _really _need an apology that badly?"

"Me? No. I guess I understand why you would humiliate me like that. Well, not really, but it's not like you haven't done it before. I'm basically used to it. But Carly is supposed to be your best friend, and you completely ruined her relationship with Adam. He's probably never going to talk to her again, and it's _your_ fault. Did you ever once think of at least saying you were sorry?"

She stayed silent for a moment, looking down at her shoes. Finally she shook her head, slowly and guiltily.

"It's not too late you know," I pointed out.

This time she nodded. Grabbing the remote, she quickly switched the TV off and got up from her seat. "Carly!" she called, running up the stairs. "Carlotta! Get your butt out of the shower and get down here!"

A moment later Carly appeared at the base of the stairs, a towel wrapped around her head and a fluffy pink bathrobe around her body. "What is it Sam?" she asked warily. "It was my shower time."

"Listen," said Sam, stepping closer to her best friend and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Sorry? For what?"

"You know, for telling everyone at Webicon that you and Freddie were in love, for showing up late…for Adam…"

"It's alright Sa–"

"No, it's not!" she exclaimed suddenly. "It's not alright. I wish I could make it alright again, but the truth is that I did something stupid and now Adam is never going to talk to you again."

"We don't know that…"

"I tied him to a chair and left him as food for a bunch of angry superfans," she said. "Not to mention the fact that he was already thinking that something was going on between you and Freddie. I don't think he's coming back."

"Yeah, probably not," she said. Guilt flashed across Sam's face. "But I mean, he's just a guy. If he can't handle one tiny mob of superfans, then he's no use to me as a boyfriend." Sam looked skeptical, but Carly just squeezed her arm and gave her a warm smile. "I'll be okay."

Sam nodded, looking relieved. "You know I didn't mean it, right?" she said in a rare moment of true sincerity. "I mean, I didn't want to ruin the whole Adam thing for you. I just wanted to have some fun stirring up the fans…and maybe get a rile out of Freddie. But I shouldn't have. I wasn't thinking."

"I know," Carly said. "You were just being Sam." Her smile broadened. "Hugs?"

Sam smiled back and pulled Carly into a tight hug.

"There's just one thing I don't get," Carly said as she pulled away. "What I don't get is how you two stayed so calm the whole time." She pointed to Sam and me. "I mean, there were people there who's biggest wish in life was for you two to get together, and you guys didn't even bat an eye about it. A year ago, you would've been denying it up and down. And Freddie, you had no problem telling everyone you weren't in love with me, but you never said one word about Sam." She furrowed her eyebrows in concern, and maybe just a little bit of hurt. "You guys aren't hiding anything from me again, are you?"

Sam and I exchanged a look, not quite sure what to say.

"Oh my god," she said, eyes wide. "You're dating."

"What? No!" We shouted at the same time. We looked at each other again briefly before bringing our attention back to our friend.

"Guys. I know you're hiding something from me. You've been acting weird for _months. _At first I thought it was just my imagination, but seeing how you two acted today, with Freddie so ready to tell the world that he wasn't in love with me but not even addressing the people who thought he should be in love with Sam…I _know _there's something you're not telling me." I looked at Sam again, but this time she kept her eyes glued to the floor, her long blonde hair hanging down and covering most of her face. "We promised that we wouldn't keep any more secrets from each other, remember? We're best friends. We should be able to trust each other with _anything_. So just…tell me. Tell me what's going on. I won't be mad, I promise."

I searched Sam's eyes for any signal as to what we should do, but she was just as difficult to read as she'd always been. But one thing I could tell was that Sam looked uncomfortable. And I knew from years of experience that when Sam was uncomfortable, she was never the first to say anything. I took a deep breath and started talking.

We told Carly everything. Well, almost everything. Our powers, the prophecy, how this wasn't the first time we'd heard that we should fall in love with each other. Of course, we explained that that would never happen. Carly was skeptical about the whole psychic thing at first, so we told her what she was thinking…like nine times each. She finally realized that we really were telling the truth and, surprisingly, she was cool about the whole thing. True to her word, she didn't get mad at us for not telling her before, and she swore not to tell anyone as long as she lived. I had to admit, it felt nice to finally have Carly know our secret.

But there were some things I just couldn't bring myself to tell her. Sam seemed to feel the same way, because she didn't volunteer that the other part of the prophecy left us dead, or that we'd seen a ghost, or that that same ghost was still haunting Sam's dreams every night, or that the reason we both looked so tired was that we often spent most of the night talking when she would call me up after having a nightmare. And we most certainly didn't tell her about how awkward things had been between us recently. Heck, we didn't even talk about that with each other, though both of us knew it was there. I guess we came to an unspoken agreement that it was probably best to keep those things to ourselves…at least for the time being.

And I decided on my own not to say what neither girl knew. That there was another reason I denied loving Carly more urgently than I did with loving Sam; that it wasn't just because I was used to hearing that Sam and I might fall in love; that the prophecy actually had a lot less to do with it than I let on; that the real reason was one that I didn't even realize existed until Carly questioned us about it.

The truth: I was pretty sure about not being in love with one of them. But with the other, well, I wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

My phone rang at two in the morning, as it often did.

"Hey Sam," I answered sleepily. "Nightmare?" I still asked every time, even though her response was always the same.

Only this time it wasn't. _"No,"_ she replied.

"Really? That's great! But why are you calling if you didn't have a nightmare?"

_"Can't sleep."_

"Oh. So that's why you didn't have any nightmares yet. Why can't you sleep?"

I expected some sort of sarcastic comeback, but instead Sam just let out a heavy sigh. _"Freddie…I'm sorry."_

I couldn't believe my ears. "Huh?" I said stupidly. "What did you say Sam? I think I heard you wrong. I could've sworn you just said you were-"

_"Sorry,"_ she finished. _"I am. I should've apologized to you like I did to Carly. So I'm sorry for telling everyone you were in love with Carly. I shouldn't have."_

"Wow, Sam. Um, thank you."

_"I wasn't done yet pea brain. Remember a few years ago? What I said that time after I told everyone you'd never kissed a girl?"_

"Yeah. You asked me if I wanted a meatball."

_"Not that! I meant what I said after that. How I was going to apologize for the crap I put you through every few years and start fresh again."_

"Yeah," I said. "I remember that."

I heard her take a deep breath. _"I'm sorry that I went too far at Webicon, and that I told your mom that you had fleas, and that I stole your wallet yesterday…"_

"Wait, you're the one who stole my wallet?"

She ignored me. _"And I'm sorry that I got mad at you and didn't talk to you for so long, and that I slap you and spank you and taser you and make your life miserable. I'm sorry that I'm such a bad friend."_

"Sam, you're not a bad friend. You're my best friend. Even if you do make my life miserable sometimes, you're still my best friend, and I still l-" It was a good thing I caught myself before I finished that sentence. Luckily, Sam didn't seem to notice.

_"Well I know that I don't always act like it…and I'm sorry."_

"I know," I said. "It's alright." It was about all I could think to say at the time. My head was still spinning from what I'd almost said a minute before. Even if I only meant it in the most platonic way, I still couldn't believe I'd almost said it to _Sam_ of all people. I didn't even know why I almost said it. It just seemed like the natural thing to say.

"So," I said. "Does this mean that the only time I get an apology is whenever you reveal something untrue or embarrassing about me to the world?"

She chuckled lightly. _"Night Benson. And hey, sorry I keep calling you so late at night."_

"Don't be." I was smiling when I hung up the phone.

Suddenly my smile faded as I realized my predicament. I really did enjoy these late-night phone calls of ours, but they did have one major disadvantage, and it wasn't just disrupting my sleep.

If they continued, I was sure to only become more and more confused.


	24. iJust Want You to Be Happy

**Hello! Guess what? No more school for me! Well, for now anyway. That means I'll be updating a little quicker than usual, though don't expect it to be every day. Probably about twice a week from now on. I kind of have to go more quickly anyway, because in three weeks I'll be leaving for science camp, where I'll stay for SEVEN WEEKS. It's a good thing this story is almost over anyway. I think there will probably be about three more chapters after this one. Maybe four. But probably three. I'm not really sure. We'll just have to wait and see!**

**Disclaimer: I may be done with this school year, but I'm not out of high school yet. When I am, I'll be sure to find Dan Schneider and force…ahem…I mean, ask him if I can be co-owner of iCarly. For now, iCarly isn't mine.**

If at any point I was confused about my feelings for Sam, that confusion was gone as I marched towards the end of the hall that I hadn't been down in a long time. After what had happened a few minutes before, my feelings about the blonde miscreant were clear.

I hated her.

"Well, look who's here," I heard as I walked into the apartment without bothering to knock. "It's certainly been a while since I've seen you, Freddie Benson." Moira smiled warmly and took a sip out of the cup she held clasped in her hands. "Tea?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, taking a seat across from her at the dining table. She grabbed a tea pot and poured it into a cup identical to hers. For a moment I was so surprised that I forgot my anger at Sam. "Is that an actual tea pot?" I asked.

"Yep," Moira said proudly. "I finally learned to make tea the right way. No more Merl Brown tea bags for me," she chuckled. "I feel so British."

I couldn't help but smile. "It's good to see you Moira," I said, taking a sip of tea. "Mmm, this is good."

"Right? I'm telling you Freddie, those British people are onto something." She took another sip and set her cup down on the table. "So. Tell me about this fight with Sam."

"Man," I said. "It has been a long time since I've been here, hasn't it? I almost forgot that you could see the future." It was true. I hadn't been to visit Moira in months. I always meant to, but it seemed that something always came up.

"Well, I understand that you have other friends now," she said. "You don't always have time to hang out with the little old lady down the hall anymore."

"You're not old. And I'll always find time to spend with you," I said. Moira didn't respond, just kept her eyes glued to the brownish liquid swirling in her tea cup. "Anyway, about Sam." I took a deep breath. "She…she just…I don't know."

"Well. No wonder you're mad at her."

"I just thought things were getting better between us," I said quickly, and a little louder than I'd intended. "And now…now everything's all…bad again."

"How so?"

"It's a long story," I sighed. "But I suppose things really started to go wrong a few weeks ago, when Carly, Sam, and I decided to hire an intern to help us with iCarly…"

* * *

"_And on the day before I started seventh grade, my dad said to me 'Cort, you've gotta learn how to tie your own shoes. It's important.' And now I can tie my shoes without even thinking about it!"_

_The girls cheered. I rolled my eyes. _

_"You are SO good looking," said Sam._

"_I was about to say that," Carly giggled._

"_You guys!" I said. I turned back to the admittedly handsome moron. "Thank you Cort. You can go now."_

"_Go where?" Cort asked, looking confused. No surprise there._

"_Wherever you came from. We've already decided who we're going to hire."_

"_We sure have!" Sam smiled._

_Carly was also sporting a wide grin. "Congratulations Cort!"_

* * *

"So, basically your friends hired an idiot?"

"Basically," I said.

"And that's why you're mad at Sam?"

"Oh no. I mean, I was a little peeved about it at the time, but I finally got them to fire him weeks ago."

"You wanted him fired just because he was stupid?"

"_Dangerously _stupid," I corrected.

"Ah. I see. But if that's not what you're mad about, what is?"

"We'll everything went back to normal when Cort left. I was glad, but iCarly was still too much work for just the three of us. Which is why I was so happy when Brad, the guy who we were originally going to hire as our intern before Cort showed up being all beautiful–"

"Beautiful?"

"Carly's words; not mine. Anyway, that's why I was happy when Brad transferred to Ridgeway. It seemed like we finally got our second chance at a qualified intern…"

* * *

"_So," said Brad, setting down his backpack. "How are things working out with Cort on iCarly?"_

"_Oh," Carly said. "We, uh…had to fire Cort."_

"_Yeah," Sam said reluctantly._

"_Why? What happened?"_

"_Oh, he just turned out to be…" Carly trailed off._

"_Not the best…"_

"_He was dangerously stupid," I said._

"_Yep."_

"_Seriously stupid."_

"_Well hey, if you're still looking for some help with iCarly, I'd be happy to–"_

"_You still want to be our intern?" Carly interrupted._

"_Really?"_

"_I'd love it!" said Brad._

"_Awesome!"_

"_Done!"_

"_You're in!"_

"_And you still make fudge, right?" Sam asked._

"_Oh yeah. I love making fudge for people! In fact…" He turned around and grabbed a plastic container out of his backpack. "Fudge!"_

* * *

"Having Brad as our intern seemed like a dream come true. He was good with the equipment, and running iCarly became a lot easier. Plus I finally had a guy friend to hang out with, which was great. Not to mention that he did make some mean fudge. Everything was going great."

"And I'm guessing it's not anymore?" Moira asked.

"Well, I mean, Brad's still doing a great job and everything, and I have nothing against the guy, it's just…well, when Brad and I started hanging out, we weren't the only ones there. Someone else kept tagging along, helping us with our semester project, coming with us to the movies…it was like we couldn't get rid of her."

"Sam?"

"Yep."

* * *

"_I got this." Sam pushed in front of us and handed the concession stand cashier a twenty dollar bill. The cashier handed her back her change and I swiped it from her hand._

"_Dude, what's your problem?" she asked._

"_Just taking my change," I said. "Because it is my change, isn't it?" It wasn't even really a question. More of a statement._

"_No, I've been saving up. This is my money."_

"_Right," I said sarcastically. I grabbed my wallet out of my back pocket. "Please, Sam. I know you stole that twenty from my…" I sifted through my wallet. Everything was there. Sam raised her eyebrows. "Okay, so maybe it wasn't my money. But that doesn't mean it wasn't Brad's!"_

"_Freddie," said Brad. "I don't think she–"_

"_Just check your wallet." He did as I said._

"_Yep. All there," he said._

"_Told'ya," said Sam, looking annoyed._

"_You took it from a stranger then!"_

"_No, I didn't!" She looked like she was going to punch me in the face, but then she stopped. "But it's okay that you don't believe me. Everyone makes mistakes."_

_I just stared at her. "That's it. I can't take it anymore! I KNOW you're up to something! So either tell me what it is now, or I'm leaving."_

"_I'm telling you, I'm not up to anything!"_

"_Riiiight. So you just suddenly decided to be nice to me? Ha! Like I'm going to believe that!" I turned and started for the exit._

"_Where are you going?" she said, grabbing my arm._

"_I don't know. Somewhere other than here." I stomped out of the theater without looking back._

* * *

So, what you're telling me is that you got mad at Sam…because she was being nice to you?"

"No! I mean, well, kind of…I don't know!" I sighed. "It's just…I _know _she's up to something. She has to be! She's never this nice to me when other people are around!"

"Oh, so she's nice to you when you're alone?" The corners of Moira's mouth played upward slightly.

"Well, sometimes…but that's not the point."

"Oh, I think that's _exactly_ the point."

"What do you mean?"

Moira sighed as if she was annoyed, but I could see her eyes sparkling all the same. "You don't want Sam to act nice in public. You want her to be the same crazy delinquent she's always been, and to save her niceness for those quiet moments when it's just the two of you." _One might even say you were jealous, _she thought.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Moira took that as her cue to keep going.

"I'm just saying, maybe you don't need to write this off as her being up to something. Come on Freddie, if _anybody _knows Sam Puckett at all, it's you. Did she seem like she was up to something?"

"I…" I started, but then sighed. "No. But then why would she be so nice if she wasn't planning to dump something on my head? Or put itching powder in my pants? Or feed me to a rabid animal?"

"Now _that_ you'll have to figure out on your own," she said, finishing the last of her tea. "Now shoo. You have a project to work on."

I thanked her for the advice and left the apartment, unsure whether she was talking about my project for school or something else entirely.

* * *

I decided that Moira had to be wrong. Sam just _had_ to be up to something. There didn't seem to be any other explanation for her behavior. So the night of the Ridgeway lock-in, when she offered us some tortilla chips and guacamole, I did what any rational person would do and swatted the suspicious food out of Brad's hand before he could eat it.

"Why'd you do that?" Sam asked, looking slightly irritated.

I sniffed the green mixture. "What'd you put in the guac? Something to make us sleep?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then eat some," I said, smiling now that I'd finally found a way to expose her evil plan.

But Sam just shrugged, scooped up some guacamole with a chip, and popped it into her mouth.

I set down the apparently harmless avocado spread and took Sam by the arm. "Just a sec," I told Brad, dragging Sam with me to the back of the room. "Okay, what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked. If I didn't know she was up to something I would've been fooled by the sincerity in her voice.

"You have been _nice_ and _helpful_ and _considerate_ all day! What's your game?"

"No game," she stated calmly. I stared at her, trying to will her either tell the truth or somehow stop being psychic so I could read her mind. No such luck. "Why don't we get on with the project?"

It didn't seem like she was going to crack anytime soon. "Okay," I said reluctantly.

"Okay?" she asked.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

We both walked back to the work area and I took my place behind my laptop. Sam stood by the PearPad a few feet away. "So," she said, "is this baby ready for testing?"

"Yep," said Brad. "Just sit on that chair and stare right into the PearPad."

"I do like sittin' and starin.'" She took her seat on the chair and Brad picked up the camera.

"Go ahead and record," I said.

"Alright." Brad pushed a button on the camcorder. "Rolling."

"Okay, this is Freddie Benson proceeding with test number three of application Mood Face, subject Sam Puckett," I said into the recorder on my phone. "Alright Sam, just stare at the PearPad straight on and keep your head still."

"Yep," she agreed. I started the application.

I was actually kind of glad that Sam had decided to help with our project. It wasn't so much that she was a great help; I just wanted to see what the test results would be. The Mood Face app that Brad and I were creating was designed to tell a person's mood, kind of like a digital psychic. I figured it was the closest I was going to get to knowing what Sam was really thinking. Maybe the results would come back "devious" or "sneaky" or "in the mood for torturing dorks." Then again, if Moira was right, it might come up "friendly" or "helpful." And I wasn't completely ruling out "insane."

But the real result was the one thing that never even crossed my mind as a possibility. Even when the two words popped up on the screen, in plain sight for me to read, I still couldn't believe it. It was crazy. Impossible. It had to be a mistake.

But somehow I knew it wasn't. Whether I liked it or not, I knew that it was no mistake. It was the option I never considered; the only other explanation for Sam's sudden change in behavior. Suddenly I was wishing that it really was a prank, because the results of the test proved something even more terrifying.

Sam Puckett was in love.

* * *

"Sam is in love?" It looked like the news was finally sinking in for Carly. She still seemed excited, like she had been when I'd first revealed the news to her a minute before, but now I could practically see the wheels in her head turning, trying to sort out all the implications of a love-sick Sam. _Oh my gosh! I can't believe Sam is in love with Brad! But why didn't she tell me? She always tells me when she likes a guy. But it's still great. Brad is such a nice guy; not like the guys she usually dates. A little nerdy, but nice. Kind of like Freddie…_

I wasn't having any more luck than she was in trying to figure out how I felt about the news. When I first saw the results pop onto the screen, the only thing I felt was shock. Then I decided that it was a good thing. I mean, like Carly said, Brad was a nice guy. Maybe he would be a good influence on her. She might even keep being nice…

But that was just it. Moira was right. I didn't _want _her to keep being nice. I just wanted her to be Sam, my crazy, if not slightly psychotic, best friend. And something about the fact that she was in love with a tech geek, something that she'd always mocked me for…well, I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me a little. And then there was the whole prophecy thing…

I shook my head. If Sam was happy, I shouldn't be worried about some stupid prophecy. Cursed to kill each other or not, we couldn't let that get in the way of us living our lives. If Sam was happy, I was happy. Right?

"Hello? Earth to Freddie." I was snapped out of my reverie by Carly's voice. "You okay?" she asked. "You zoned out for a minute there."

"Yeah…I'm cool. Um…if you want to go talk to Sam, I'll watch your experiment for you." I glanced back at the giant glass box that Carly and Gibby and forced Spencer into for their experiment. The spazzy artist was currently looking a little less spazzy than usual, collapsed on the box's floor while a curious green smoke circled around him.

"Nah," she said. "Gibby can handle it. Go back to your own project."

"M'kay. Thanks Carls."

"No prob. Oh, and Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you're alright with this," she said.

I scoffed, though not very convincingly. "Why wouldn't I be okay with this?"

"I don't know…it's just the whole," she looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening and lowered her voice, "this whole prophecy thing."

"Nah," I said. "That prophecy's probably wrong anyway." If only she knew the other part of the prophecy; the part we never told her. The part that said what would happen if we didn't fall in love.

* * *

When I got back to room 208, Sam was gone.

"Hey Freddie," Brad said cheerfully. "Did you find those tissues you were looking for?"

"Tissues?" Then I remembered the excuse I'd given when I suddenly ran out of the room to find Carly. "Right. Um, no. Couldn't find any."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"Yeah…" I said. "So, um, do you know where Sam went?"

"She left a minute ago to get a sandwich from her locker."

"Ah."

"Do you want to run another test with the app when she gets back?"

"Uh…no. I don't think that will be necessary."

"But if the results were inconclusive like you said–"

"Yeah, I've got to go look for tissues again." I rushed out of the room before Brad could figure out that I hadn't been entirely truthful about the results of the test.

I walked back into the hallway just as Sam was walking away from Carly, a humongous ham sandwich clutched in her fist. "She admit it?" I asked.

"Denied," Carly said warily.

"Yeah, I figured." I had to say, I was almost relieved. The more I thought about it, the more unsure I was about how I felt about this whole 'Sam loves Brad' business.

"Eh, she's just a little awkward about liking guys."

"Oh well." I started to walk away.

"No no no," said Carly. "No 'oh well.' We're going to make this happen."

"Why?"

"'Cause Brad's awesome! It's the first time Sam's ever liked a guy who's not disgusting…or heavily tattooed…or on parole."

"But if Sam won't even admit that she likes him how are we gonna–"

"You've seen the animal channel!" Carly said. She must have noticed the confused look on my face as I wondered if Sam wasn't the only one losing her mind. "The…" she looked around before pushing me to the back of the room and lowering her voice. "The horses?"

I shook my head. She continued, obviously uncomfortable. "When they want two horses to…you know…'date'…they put them in the same barn together…and then they like turn the barn lights down, and…" By then I was nodding my head, greatly amused. Apparently, Carly didn't find the situation quite as funny as I did. "You know what I'm talking about!" She grabbed my shoulders and shook them. "Why are you making me say it?"

I laughed. "So we get Sam and Brad, take them to a barn…"

"Stop it! This is important! Help me do this. For Sam."

I nodded lightly. "Alright. But if she gets mad at me–"

"Hey!" I was interrupted by Gibby running up to us and informing Carly that Spencer had puked in their stimulus chamber.

"Please, _please _just clean it up," she said in that pitiful and surprisingly persuasive voice that I got to know all too well when I had a crush on her. "We have something really important to do." She didn't even wait for Gibby's response before she started walking away. "Come on."

I followed her back to room 208, leaving Gibby grumbling to himself about always being made to clean vomit out of sensory stimulus chambers. It made me wonder how many times that had happened to him before.

"So what's the plan?" I asked Carly.

"You make up something to get everyone out of the room except for Sam and Brad."

"Right. Wait, why me?"

"You know I'm a terrible liar!"

"So am I!"

"Hi Carly," she mocked, putting on a fake voice that I assumed was supposed to sound like mine. "I'm just normal, average Freddie Benson. I don't have any freaky powers like the ability to read people's minds or anything!"

"Point taken. But what am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know," she said. "Use your imagination." Just then we arrived outside of the room. It looked like I wasn't going to have much time for imagination. Show time.

"Hey everyone!" I said as we opened the door. "I, uh…I just saw a two-headed frog out in the courtyard! Two heads! On a frog!" No one except Brad looked especially excited. Then again, I don't think I'd ever seen Brad when he didn't look excited. "Come on! I'll show you!"

"Yes, follow Freddie." Everybody shrugged and followed me to the courtyard, which we shouldn't have been able to access, except that the school never seemed to take into account the fact that all the doors could be unlocked from the inside. So much for the 'lock-in.'

"I don't see anything," said Terrene after a minute.

"Yeah, me neither."

"Is this some sort of joke, Benson?"

"No!" I said quickly. "It has to be around here somewhere! We should check that bush over there. I think I saw it hopping in that direction earlier."

"Don't worry," said Jake, looking under the bush. "I've got this. No mutant frog is going to escape my attention."

"Yeah!" said Carly, coming out of the building. Well, at least the plan was working so far. Sam and Brad were finally alone. "That frog…it's here! Somewhere! And it has two heads!" Boy, she was right when she said she was a terrible liar.

"Carly," I whispered. "It's okay. You can go back to your experiment. I've got this."

"Thank you!" she said and ran back inside. We continued to wait for the imaginary frog to show himself.

"Okay," said Wendy. "We've been out here for like four minutes and I still haven't seen any two-headed frogs. I'm out."

"Yeah, me too."

"You suck, Benson!"

"Wait! Come back! I know it's got to be around here somewhere!" People ignored me and started filing back into the building. Jake was the last one in. He shook his head at me in disappointment before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

I groaned and tried to open the door, only to find that it was locked. "Hey! Not cool guys! Let me in!" No one came. "Oh, it's a good thing I'm the president of the AV club and that I remembered to bring my keys with me, or you guys would be in big trouble!" I pulled out my giant key ring and opened the door. When I got back to the classroom, everyone was back at their stations. Well, everyone but Sam.

"Brad," I said to the boy fiddling with a PearPad. "Where's Sam?"

"She said something about finding Carly to tell her she wasn't allowed to watch the animal channel anymore. Whatever that means."

I groaned and ran back into the hallway. I was halfway to the room where Carly and Gibby were doing their experiment when a flash of blonde stormed by.

"Sam!" I called after her. She kept going. "Sam! Wait up!" I ran after her and managed to catch her by the shoulder. She still didn't turn around. "Sam, what happened?"

"Why don't you ask Carly?" she said coldly, shrugging my hand off her shoulder and continuing down the hall.

I shrugged and kept walking to Carly's room. When I opened the door, I found that Spencer and the inside of the box were now covered in a creamy liquid that appeared to be some sort of chowder. Gibby was looking at Spencer and taking notes on his PearPad, but Carly didn't appear to be participating in the experiment at the moment. She just stood with her arms crossed and a worried expression on her face.

"Carly?" I said.

"Freddie, do I meddle too much?" she asked, turning towards me suddenly.

I wasn't really sure how I should respond to that. "Well…um…I think…"

"Just say it. I meddle too much."

"Okay. You meddle too much." Her gaze fell to her shoes. "But your intentions are good!"

She sighed heavily. "But good intentions didn't stop Sam from getting mad at me. I just want her to be happy."

"I know. But…maybe Sam wants to find her own happiness. You know, without having someone, or some_thing_, else do it for her."

Her eyes lit up in understanding. _The prophecy. Of course._ "Oh. Yeah. I…I guess I didn't think of that."

"But if the only problem is that she really is too scared to express her feelings…well, maybe instead of just leaving her alone with a guy and hoping she'll overcome her fears on her own, maybe someone should actually talk to her about it."

"Yeah, but I don't think she's going to want to listen to me anymore. I already messed things up once tonight."

"I'll talk to her," I said.

"Freddie, you don't have to–"

"I _want _to talk to her, okay?"

She nodded. "Good luck." _He'll need it._

"Thanks," I said. As I left the room, I just barely caught a glimpse of a very tired looking Carly resting her head on a chubby, Hawaiian shirt-covered shoulder. Gibby didn't seem to mind.

I wasn't surprised to see that Sam was gone again when I returned to room 208. "Brad?" I said.

"Courtyard," he responded without looking up.

"Thanks."

I stopped short when I arrived at the door leading into the courtyard. What if I was doing the wrong thing? I still wasn't entirely sure of my feelings for Sam. One minute I would think that I hated her, the next she'd be my best friend. But then I realized: this wasn't about me. This was about Sam, who liked Brad, not me. "I want her to be happy," I said to myself. "I want her to be happy."

I took a deep breath and opened the door. Sam was sitting on some steps not too far away, clutching a water bottle and looking angry.

"Yo yo," I said.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Carly sent you to find me?"

"Nope."

"Oh, so you don't know we had a little argument."

"She told me about your little argument. I just said she didn't tell me to come find you."

"Good."

"But Carly's right."

"Uggghhh!" she groaned loudly.

"Groan all you want."

"I don't care what your stupid PearPad app says about me being in love! I'm not into Brad like that."

"Lately, every time I tell you that Brad and I are doing something together, you want to come hang with us."

"And that means I'm in love with him?"

"Well you hate me!" I pointed out.

She looked down at her water bottle, twisting the cap nervously. "I never said I hate you."

"Yeah you have! Like nine-hundred times! I still have the birthday card you gave me that says 'Happy birthday, I hate you! Hate, Sam!'" Of course, there were all those pranks she pulled on me that had notes saying "Love, Sam…"

"Just leeeave!" she said, her voice cracking a little.

"Fine. I'll 'leeeave.'"

"Bye."

"But before I go…"

"That's it!" She got up from her seat on the steps and walked towards me, fuming. "Get out of here before I do a double-fist dance on your face!"

"You can threaten your double-fist face-dancing all you want, but Carly's still right. Look, I know it's scary for you to put your feelings out there. Because you never know if the person you like is going to like you back. Everyone feels that way. But you never know what might happen if you don't–"

_I don't love Brad, you big idiot. _It wasn't until I heard her think that that I realized she was kissing me. I wasn't really sure how to respond. So I just stood there while she kissed me, thinking the only thing I could manage at the moment.

_Me? _I asked.

_You._

She broke the kiss and backed away a little. We just stood there, staring at each other. Her eyes were wide in surprise and possibly worry, and her mouth hung open slightly. I also noticed that her eyes looked a little red and puffy, and suddenly I realized that she had been crying before I got there.

She looked beautiful.

"I…" I started, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's cool…"

She chuckled lightly. "Not really. I can't believe I just kissed a dork."

"I can't believe that you're…you know…"

"Before you go off on that, I'm not sure that I really am."

"But the app said–"

"Maybe the app doesn't know the difference between love and…infatuation."

"Infatuation?"

"Yeah, it means–"

"I know what it means. It's just…I thought…"

She raised her eyebrows.

I sighed. "Never mind. So if it's me that you're…infatuated with, why did you only start being nice to me when Brad showed up? Was Brad…" I felt a smile tugging at my lips. "Was he just an excuse to get close to me?"

She scoffed. "Please. Don't flatter yourself, Benson. It's not like I've been harboring some secret feelings for you for a long time. Ever heard of a coincidence?"

"You know, you're acting awfully cocky for someone who just admitted she is in love with a nub."

"Infatuated!"

By then our faces were very close together. So close that I could smell ham on her breath. I never realized before just how much I liked the smell of ham.

"Sam?" I said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I…I think I might be…infatuated with you too."

She raised her eyebrows, but furrowed them together when she noticed I was leaning closer. Our faces were now less than an inch apart, and the smell of ham was overwhelming. I was just about to close the distance when…

"_You're such a momma's boy! You're such a momma's boy! You're such a momma's boy!"_

I groaned and picked up my phone. I really needed to remember to change my ringtone back from Sam's recorded message. "Mom," I said into the phone. "I already told you, you don't need to call and check up on me. I'm fi–"

"Freddie, I'm not calling to check up on you." I swear I heard her voice crack a little.

"Mom…is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "It's about Moira."

My heart skipped a beat. "What about Moira?"

"Freddie," Mom said miserably. "Moira's in the hospital."


	25. iWill See You Again

**Okay, so last chapter I wasn't really sure whether there would be three or four more chapters. I was leaning towards three, but it looks like I was wrong, because I ended up splitting the next part into two parts. So NOW there will be three chapters left after this one. Probably. I'm pretty sure. I think.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not sure of much, but I'm sure that I don't own iCarly. I'm also sure that I will never be a professional rodeo clown. I'd surely end up hurting myself. Besides, clowns are scary.**

I didn't ask for permission to leave the school during the lock-in, or even bother to tell anyone where I was going. I just ran. I ran out of the school and into the dark Seattle night, holding up two fingers until a lonely taxi came into view and stopped for me.

"Seattle Memorial Hospital," I said, getting into the cab. The driver nodded and headed in the direction of the hospital.

I'd never been in a cab before. Mom always said they were dangerous. But she also said that driving after dark was dangerous, which is why she had been the one to drop me off at the school that night, so I really had no choice. I just sat back and tried not to think about all the horror stories mom had told me about scam artists and murderers posing as cab drivers. Besides, the guy seemed harmless. He whistled cheerfully as he made his way to the hospital, thinking about the baseball game playing over the car's radio.

Before long, we arrived at the hospital. I shoved a twenty into the driver's hand, told him to keep the change, and ran into the building.

"Room number for Moira Bell," I said as I arrived at the front desk and tried to catch my breath. "Please."

The receptionist looked down at her computer and typed something on the keyboard before looking back up and giving me a big, fake, red lipstick-covered grin. "Room 363. But it's way past visiting hours. Unless of course you're family."

"I am." The woman nodded. It was kind of true. Mom and I were about as close to family as Moira had anymore. I fast-walked to an elevator that was already open and stepped inside just before the doors closed.

"What floor?" the tall man standing next to me asked.

"Third," I said. He pressed the button for me and I closed my eyes as the elevator started up its path. The trip to the third floor seemed to take an eternity, though in reality it was probably less than a minute. Finally the doors opened and I followed the signs in the hallway to room 363.

I hesitated for a moment before carefully knocking on the heavy wooden door. The door swung open and my mom stood before me wearing her light blue nurse's scrubs and a frown.

"Moira," she called into the room. "You have a visitor." She didn't wait for Moira's response before stepping aside and letting me into the room.

"If it's Nurse Larry again, tell him I died," Moira called back.

My mom sighed, obviously not finding much humor in Moira's joke. I walked around the corner and found Moira fully awake in her bed. In a way I was relieved. Mom hadn't given many specifics over the phone, besides the basics: _Heart attack. Bad one. Surprised she survived it_. I had half expected to walk in and see her lying unconscious, so seeing her eyes open and hearing her talk was definitely a relief.

On the other hand, other than being awake, she didn't look so good. Her skin was pale and sickly, and her eyes looked tired. She was lying down with the bed tilted up only slightly, apparently unable to sit up much. Still she seemed to be the only one who wasn't bothered by the rhythmic but way too slow _beep beep beep _of the heart monitor.

"Marissa," she scolded. "Why'd you tell the boy? He doesn't need to be here. Has no one ever heard of patient confidentiality? And Freddie, don't you have a project to be working on at school?"

"I thought he should be here," Mom said. "That heart attack was a bad one Moira. It did a lot of damage. We don't know if this might be the last…" She turned her face away and choked back a sob.

"Oh, no need to be so dramatic," Moira said. "I'm not dead yet. And this won't be the last time either of you sees me. Leave Freddie. And Marissa, don't bother the boy again."

"But–"

"No buts. I said this won't be the last time either of you see me, and it won't. You're not rid of me yet." She turned her head and looked me straight in the eyes. "You'll see me again."

"But–" This time Mom was interrupted not by Moira, but by her pager. She sighed and walked out of the room without so much as a goodbye, but with some words I never thought I'd hear my mother use to describe her feelings about working the late shift.

I turned my attention back to Moira. "I'm not leaving," I said firmly.

"Yes you are," she said. "Go work on your project. I'm alright."

"No you're not! You look awful!"

"Gee, thanks. Just what every woman wants to hear."

"Moira–"

"Leave," she said sternly. I didn't budge, and she sighed. "Listen. I'll let you know when you should come and see me again. But for now I need my rest, and you need to go work on that project. Okay?"

"So what, are you just going to call me up and say 'Hey, Freddie! I'm dying! Why don't you come down here and talk to me before I kick the bucket?'"

She rolled her eyes. _I'll let you know. Trust me on this._

I thought about it for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Okay," I sighed. "I trust you."

* * *

As soon as I unlocked the side door with my AV Club keys and let myself into the building, I was bombarded with questions.

Where have you been?

What were you thinking?

Young man, do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?

After telling everyone that I had just decided to take a walk because I was feeling claustrophobic and apologizing profusely to Principal Franklin, I made my way to the back of the school and went out into the courtyard, taking a seat on the steps where Sam had been sitting earlier and looking up at the sky. With the bright lights of Seattle everywhere, there really weren't any stars to speak of, but I could still see the bright crescent moon overhead, looking like a smile or a frown depending on how I looked at it.

The door a few feet away creaked open and then closed again, but I didn't take my eyes off the moon.

"Yo yo," came a familiar voice, using the same greeting I'd used on her earlier.

"What is it, Sam?" I said.

"I want to know what's wrong," she said simply.

"Nothing's wrong," I said, though I still couldn't bring myself to look at her.

"Please, one minute you get a phone call and the next you're running out of the school like your pants are on fire and you're gone for over an hour. And I'm supposed to believe that you just 'went for a walk'? I can smell a lie from a mile away, even on you." Finally I managed to tear my eyes away from the sky and look at her. She looked completely serious. "Now spill."

I sighed. No use in denying it. "Moira had a heart attack," I said.

"She alright?" she said, coming to sit next to me.

I shrugged. "Probably not."

She nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

I scoffed. "Yeah. Because that's going to fix it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows together.

"You used to say that you hated to apologize. Now you think you can fix anything with it, just because you're you and if you say it, then it must mean something."

"I was just trying to be supportive!"

"Oh, now you want to be supportive? Where were you all the times I was mad or upset over the last six years? Oh, that's right. You were the one who caused it!"

"Now listen–"

"No! For once in your life, you're going to listen to me! Understood?" She backed away slightly, looking completely shocked at my sudden outburst, but nodded anyway. "Sam," I sighed. "You can't fix everything by just saying you're sorry. Maybe some things…but not this. This is my best friend we're talking about here. And she's dying. Saying you're sorry won't make it better this time."

"I thought I was your best friend," she grumbled under her breath.

That's when something inside me snapped. "No! You're not! Best friends don't constantly cause each other pain on purpose and then laugh about it. Best friends are there for you when you need them!"

"Well I'm trying to be there for you now, if you'll just let me–"

"You know what Sam?" I said. "For once, just leave me alone. Okay?" She didn't budge. "LEAVE!"

Even in the dim lighting, I could see her face grow red in anger. "Fine!" she shouted. "I will!" She pulled the door open, stepped into the building, and slammed it shut behind her, a quiet "Fuck you, Benson," just barely audible from across the courtyard.

I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. I was angry. I was upset. I was confused. But mostly, I was tired. It wasn't long before I found myself slowly drifting to sleep, having a dream I hadn't had in a long time…

* * *

I woke to the sound of cold, steely cackling. I looked around, wondering where I was. The sky was a deep purple with just the faintest hints of gold at the horizon that meant the sun would come up soon, and the concrete steps around me were cold. That's when I remembered what had happened the night before. So much for pulling an all-nighter at the lock-in. Though at the moment, that was the least of my worries.

_It was just a dream, _I told myself, remembering the harsh laughter and cruel eyes that had been tormenting me for the last few hours. But the truth was I could still hear the cackling. The only question now: Was it really there? Or had I simply gone crazy? I suspected it was probably the latter.

"Ahem."

An inpatient cough snapped me out of my thoughts. I turned toward the offending sound and my eyes met those of the very person I was hoping to avoid for the rest of high school. So that's what I did: I avoided her, turning my gaze back to the skies and pretending like she wasn't even there.

"Um, Brad wanted me to tell you that we finished the project," said Sam, trying her best to sound bored.

I chose not to respond to that either. I suppose none of this was really Sam's fault, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment. That went double for someone I just had a nasty fight with. Triple if I also might have feelings for that person.

"Okay, what's your problem?" she yelled after several minutes of silence.

I shrugged, but didn't answer or look at her. Even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was frowning and that her face was probably starting to turn red.

"Fine," she spat. "If you're just going to ignore me, I'm leaving. Forget what I said last night about liking you or being sorry or whatever the chiz I said that might make you think I actually care. Because if you think that after last night I still actually give a rat's ass…" The cackling I'd been hearing since I fell asleep the night before suddenly grew louder, and Sam trailed off. "Did you hear that?" she asked, voice cracking slightly.

I finally turned to look at her. Her eyes betrayed the confident façade she was trying desperately to hold onto. "So you hear it too?" I asked.

"The laughing?" I nodded. "Yeah. It sounds like…" Our eyes met, and that's when I knew that this wasn't all in my head. Far from it. This was all too real.

I saw Sam reach behind a bush and pull out a baseball bat I hadn't noticed was there. Probably one of her many secret weapons she'd hidden around the school. "Show yourself!" she barked, tightening her grip on the bat. "We both know you're here! There's no use in hiding!" The laughter got louder. Sam's voice got weaker. "I mean it! Whatever you are, come out, or…or I'll find you myself and get swingy with this bat!"

"Sam," I said. "If this is who we think it is, I don't think a bat is going to do much good."

"We? I thought you didn't even believe me about her!"

"Well maybe I changed my mind! I thought you were past being mad at me about this!"

"Well maybe I changed my mind too!"

"Oh, so just because–"

The laughter was now so loud I wondered how everyone in school couldn't hear it. The air grew cold as a sudden gust of wind made its way between us, seemingly bringing the laughter along with it and sending a shiver up both our spines as it passed.

The wind blew harder, practically alive. Leaves were blown in a miniature tornado funnel, spiraling closer and closer together until they exploded in a yellow blast of light so bright that I had to look away.

When I looked back, something was materializing. Or rather, someone. A very familiar looking someone. The same dusty clothes, withered face, and thick glasses she'd had in Moira's memories and in my dreams. The same haunting yellow eyes. And as much as I didn't want to accept it, I knew that she was no dream.

Standing before us, laughing like a maniac in all her ancient, ghostly glory, was none other than Madame Gertrude McCraw.


	26. iBattle Ghosts and Hospitals

**Hello. Look, I updated super fast! I swear, this chapter has been begging me to write it for months now. So I did. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever owned iCarly.**

The wind whipped around like a twister as we stared in horror at the old woman who had literally just appeared in front of us out of thin air. Madame Gertrude continued to laugh at us, sounding like an evil genius who'd just achieved world domination and looking like the scariest midget ever to walk the earth.

"What are you doing here?" Sam spat, clutching her baseball bat tighter.

"I believe the real question," the ghostly telepathist seethed, "is what are _you_ doing here? You two should be long gone by now."

"Gone?" I asked nervously. "What do you mean we should be gone?"

"I suppose I can tell you now. I've tried to let it happen without you knowing I was involved, but you seem to have caught me anyway. Perhaps you children aren't quite as ignorant as I thought."

"Gee, thanks," said Sam.

"Not that it matters," Madame Gertrude continued, ignoring Sam's comment. "If I have my wish, you won't know the difference anyway." She cackled again. "Now let's see, where to begin? You both know about the 'one of each kind of psychic alive at a time' rule, correct?"

"Yeah," I said. "And we're the exception. Sam and I are both telepathic."

"Precisely." She smiled evilly, and another shiver went down my spine. "But the exception made room for two, not three. When you were born, there couldn't be another telepathist already living, could there?"

"So you died," I said. "You died and now you want revenge on us, right?"

"Not just revenge," she said. "I died of old age long before your parents even knew each other. I have other reasons for doing away with you. There is so much more you children don't even know." There was a low rumbling in the ground that I thought might be an earthquake. I braced myself, expecting buildings to start toppling to the ground any minute. Instead, the rumbling stopped and a single object appeared in the distance; a tiny brown speck making its way straight toward us. As the object grew nearer, it began to take a large, familiar, rectangular shape. The psychic book.

The book was bathed in yellow light, which faded when it was suddenly dropped to the ground. Madame Gertrude looked at it in disgust. "This, young psychics, is my prison."

Sam and I stared at the book, confused. "Uh, not to be rude or anything," said Sam, making it very obvious that she was in fact about to say something rude, "but are you wacko or something? What the chiz are you talking about, 'your prison'? I've been in jail before, and let me tell you, it does not look like that. Besides, I haven't seen you in there."

"Oh, but you have. Or at least, you've seen me going in and out of the book. A yellow glow in the night when you wake up from a nightmare? Does that sound familiar?"

"You," said Sam. "You've been causing the nightmares!"

The elder psychic shrieked with laughter. "A clever child. Yes, I've been going into your dreams at night. Seeing me when you were awake didn't seem to be achieving the results I desired, so I decided you needed, how do you say, an extra _push_." She smiled wickedly.

"So you toyed with our minds?" I said.

"Basically."

"You're a real sicko, lady," said Sam. "You know that?"

Madame Gertrude narrowed her eyes at the defiant blonde. "I'd be careful if I were you, Samantha Puckett. I can make things very unpleasant for you very quickly." She snapped her fingers and the baseball bat started to tremble. Suddenly the bat flew from Sam's hands and started swinging at her. Sam went into ninja mode, ducking the bat's swings and trying to grab her weapon out of the air before it could beat her to death.

"A little help here would be nice!" Sam called, trying to grab the bat and missing again. Madame Gertrude just laughed and snapped her fingers again, causing the bat to land with a thud on Sam's toe and Sam to let out a stream of expletives.

"How are you doing that?" I asked. "I thought that you could only read minds."

"Clearly you have not read the whole book," said Madame Gertrude. She snapped her fingers again and Sam stepped away from her baseball bat with lightning speed, but this time it was the book that was affected. The ancient leather cover flew open and the wrinkled pages flipped by as if someone was thumbing through them. The book finally stopped on a page and Madame Gertrude pointed to it with a single boney finger. "Read," she said.

I walked carefully toward the book, Sam following close behind. She leaned over my shoulder while I read the page out loud.

"'The psychic book must always be charmed by the soul of a powerful psychic who is no longer living,'" I read. "'The psychic that is chosen for the position will obtain all three psychic powers in order to control the book. Once a psychic is chosen to be the soul of the book, he or she cannot be released until another powerful psychic dies and takes over.'"

I looked up from the book. "You can't rest in peace unless someone else is there to power the book."

Madame Gertrude nodded. "Or possibly, if they are linked closely together, two someones." She grinned. "Two telepathists would surely be strong enough."

"So you've been trying to get us to kill each other," said Sam. "Driving us crazy with these dreams and with seeing you everywhere."

"Oh, I tried to kill you myself too, but that didn't work out so well."

"The taco truck," I said. "It was you driving it. You hit me on purpose."

"Well, to be fair, it wasn't supposed to be you." She fixed her eyes on Sam.

"You sent that email too, right? The dare was for the 'young girl who hosts the show.' You didn't mean Carly, did you?" The ghost smirked. "And I bet you were the one who made the window washer's platform break when Sam and Carly were using it, weren't you?"

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Madame Gertrude laughed like a madman. Madwoman. Madghost. Whatever.

"Oh sure," said Sam. "Always pick on me. Freddiccini here has it easy. His nightmares stop, he's never the target of the murder attempts, he barely even sees you whereas I'm seeing you everywhere…Why am I the one you keep going after? Why me?"

"Well," said Madame Gertrude, "because of the prophecy, it didn't matter which of you died first. If one of you died, the other would too, so long as you hadn't already fallen in love with each other. After all, it does say that either you will fall in love or destroy each other. It doesn't say I can't speed up the process. But tormenting both of you took a lot of energy. So naturally, I went for the weaker one."

This time it was my turn to laugh. "You've got it all wrong," I said. "Sam's the strong one, not me."

"Oh really?" She fixed her gaze on Sam. "The one with the drunken, incompetent mother and the abusive father who left when she was a child? The one who uses violence to hide the pent up feelings she's had for a boy for years? The one who cries when she thinks nobody's there? She's the strong one?" I looked back at Sam, who was studying the ground intently, refusing to meet my eyes.

"A twig that has already been bent too far is easier to snap," Madame Gertrude explained. "It was easier to focus most of my energy on the twig that was already close to breaking. Just like with the other two. Kathryn was the weaker one. So I gave her a little push, and the boy jumped into the lake after her." She smiled cruelly. "It's a shame they weren't strong enough to take over the position from me. Oh well. I won't be stuck in that foul book for much longer."

The wind picked up again, and Madame Gertrude began to rise off the ground. The yellowish glow that had been just barely noticeable before grew much brighter, and I shielded my eyes to block it out. _This is it, _I thought. _She's going to kill us. There's nothing we can do. She's just too powerful. We just have to sit back and watch her destr–_

My thoughts were interrupted by a flash of blonde running past me at top speed, screeching like a banshee and swinging a metal bat above her head. I expected that it would do no good. Madame Gertrude was a ghost; it would probably go right through her. If anything, it would only make her angrier.

Luckily, I was wrong. Sam swung the bat straight into the ghost's ankles, where it struck with a bang. Madame Gertrude tumbled out of the sky and her head hit the ground with a sickening _crack_. I felt my mouth drop open in surprise, but Sam just looked triumphant as she turned to look at me with fire in her eyes and a half-grin half-scowl on her face.

"Good god she was annoying," she said, dropping the bat to the ground. I felt my lips tugging upward in a crazy grin, which Sam returned for an instant. Then her smile faltered and she power walked towards me, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with her. "Come on," she said. "I don't know much about ghosts, but I don't think she's gone for good. We'd better get out of here before she wakes up or goes back to being undead or whatever." I nodded in agreement and we started off, not really sure where we were going.

We were just passing the Groovy Smoothie when I suddenly stopped running.

"Dude, what the chiz?" said Sam, looking annoyed. "Why'd you stop?"

"I…" I started. "I'm not sure." And I wasn't. I hadn't decided to stop or anything. I just did. It was as if someone else had decided for me.

"Well come on," she said, tugging on my hand, which I hadn't noticed until that moment was still clutching hers. "Madame Crazy could wake up any minute." A cold wind started blowing, and Sam's eyes widened. "Make that any second. Now come on!"

I wanted to go with her, but my feet seemed to be glued to the spot. "I can't," I said. "I…" Suddenly a picture appeared in my head. It was fuzzy at first, but it began grow clearer as I watched the scene unfold inside the tiny hospital room.

"_I think she's having another heart attack!"_

"_We need a doctor, stat!"_

"_Hold on, Moira. Please hold on. I need you. Freddie needs you. Please hold on."_

I shook my head. "We have to go to the hospital," I said.

"Now?" said Sam.

"Now."

"But why?"

"I'll explain on the way," I said, turning and running towards Seattle Memorial Hospital with Sam following close behind.

* * *

Moira looked even worse than she had the night before. Her skin had grown paler and sicklier, and her face was scrunched up in pain. It had been a battle convincing the doctor to let us into the room to talk to her. Literally. Sam had to get out her butter sock and everything. But the doctor finally conceded. There was nothing more he could do anyway, he had said.

Despite her obvious pain, Moira smiled when she saw us. "Hey kiddo," she said. Her voice was weak and hoarse. "I see you got the message."

"Yeah," I nodded, sitting down on the end of the hospital bed. Sam chose to remain standing in the corner. "You knew all along, didn't you?" I asked. "You knew that all of this would happen."

"Why do you think I tried to keep you from getting too involved in it?" she said. "The longer you didn't have to deal with all this psychic stuff the better."

"I wasn't talking about Madame Gertrude," I said, glancing at the heart monitor.

Moira nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I kind of figured you weren't." She sighed. "As for whether I went through life knowing that this would happen," she gestured to the hospital bed she was lying in, "well, suffice to say being psychic isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"You're telling me," I chuckled. Then I hung my head. "Moira, I–"

"Now I don't want to hear some long, sentimental speech from you. I told you to come here for a reason, and I intend on saying everything I need to say."

"Yes ma'am," I said.

Moira smiled lightly. "Good boy. Now, where to begin?" She thought for a moment. "Do you remember when you asked if I could see which psychic pairs would get together and which would…well, not?"

"Moira, what does that have to do with anyth-"

"Do you remember?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"And remember how I said I couldn't see it, and that was probably just because I was involved in the prophecy too?"

"Where are you going with this?" I asked.

"I lied."

At first I couldn't really process what she'd just told me. I just sat there, dumbstruck, unable to respond. "What?" I finally managed to get out. "But I can read your mind. I didn't hear you lie."

Moira sighed. "I'm a more powerful psychic than I let on, Freddie. I've learned how to block out some of my thoughts pretty well, even if I don't have full psychic block on my side like your friend Sam does. Now trust me, I've never lied to you before or since, but…it was necessary that one time."

"Why could it possibly be necessary?" I asked, trying not to let myself get angry. "Why didn't you just tell me you knew how Sam and I would end up? It could've made our lives a heck of a lot easier!"

"That's just it. I _didn't _know how you and Sam would turn out. I could see how Kate and Henry would turn out, and in moments of closeness, when the psychic block was undone, I could see bits of how Artie and I would turn out…but I couldn't see you."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Freddie," she sighed, "I think we both know that I'm not going to live to see what happens to you and Sam."

Suddenly I couldn't hold in my anger anymore. I stood up quickly and started pacing around the room. "I hate these stupid powers!" I yelled at no one in particular. "They ruin everything!"

"Now Freddie," Moira tried to calm me. "What have I always told you? Everyone with powers…"

"Has them for a reason," I finished, sighing. "But there aren't even supposed to be two people with the same power alive at the same time. So why were Sam and I both given telepathy? That wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. What's the reason for that, huh?"

"Maybe you just needed something to get you to notice each other," Moira said. "Maybe it wasn't so much the powers that you needed as much as the person they led you to. Maybe, just maybe…you need each other."

"But you're my best friend," I said. "I need _you_."

"Oh, you don't need me. I'm just an old woman. Besides, you have Sam now."

I looked back at the girl standing quietly in the corner with her arms folded across her chest. "Sam hates me." Sam didn't respond.

"Freddie. Do you not even realize all that you and Sam have been through? Your first kiss, multiple near death experiences…Now, I may not be able to see what will happen in the future, but if I had to guess, well…I think you'll be just fine." She gave me a weak smile.

She might have been right, but it didn't matter to me at the time. All I cared about was that the person who had gotten me through so much and had given me a friend when I needed one was now confined to a hospital bed, waiting helplessly for death to come and take her life away. "But you can't die." My voice came out small and raspy as it became harder and harder to fight the tears back. "I'll die of lack of awesome if you do, remember?"

She rubbed my forearm gently and leaned her head back on her pillow, still smiling slightly. "You'll be fine. You're a smart kid. You'll be fine."

I couldn't take it anymore. The stress, the anger, the sadness…it got to me. I could feel the hot tears begin to pour down my cheeks. Sam tiptoed towards me and put an arm around my shoulders. I have to admit, it felt good to have her there with me, even if we had been at each other's throats all day. For some reason, I couldn't even remember why I was supposed to be mad at her.

I looked at her and she looked back at me. She gave me a weak smile and her eyes began to grow moist. It dawned on me that Sam had never really gotten to know Moira very well. And with her dad gone and her mom an insensitive drunk, Carly, Spencer, and I were really all she had. For the first time in my life, I felt no jealousy toward strong, carefree, invincible Sam Puckett. Because right now she wasn't any of those things. She was just my new best friend, standing by my side when I needed her most. We stood there together, crying in silence as we watched Moira's eyes close for the last time.


	27. iWill Be Okay

**Here I am with the second-to-last chapter! Not too much to say about it****…so****…um****…yeah. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: All throughout this story, I haven't owned iCarly. But now, after months and months of writing and doing research and immersing myself in the show so I could plan this story EXACTLY how I wanted without interfering with any details of the actual show…I still don't own iCarly. Sigh. No one appreciates hard work these days.**

"Freddie!" I heard for the hundredth time that week. "Fredward Benson, come inside this instant! You know I don't like you being out there! It's not safe! Especially after that freak earthquake and tornado last week! FREDDIE!"

I ignored my mom's pleading, as had become the norm over the last week. She eventually gave up and returned to the apartment, leaving me alone on the rickety old fire escape that she really wished I didn't always cling to when I was upset.

It had been a while since the last time I came here. In fact, when I thought about it, I realized it had been over two years ago, when Sam told everyone I'd never kissed anyone. Of course, that seemed like nothing compared to my problems these days.

It had been exactly seven days since Moira died, and instead of getting over it, I seemed to only be sinking further and further into a spiral of depression. The words that Sam had said to me the night of the funeral kept ringing in my ears.

"_You know clairvoyants aren't as strong as telepathists," she said when she saw me staring at the book lying on the floor. "Madame Gertrude would've gone after her too if she thought she was strong enough."_

I sighed. I knew she was right. Still, I couldn't stop myself from glancing at the ancient leather book sitting beside me on the fire escape. There had been no sign of Madame Gertrude since Moira's death, but then again, there had been no sign of Moira either. For all we knew, Gertrude just hadn't recovered from Sam's baseball bat yet.

And then there was Sam. My confused and mixed up feelings about her weren't making things any easier on me. Especially after that conversation I had with Carly a few days before, when she, like almost everyone else, tried to get me to come inside.

"_Freddie, I'm very sorry about your friend. You know that. But you can't just sit out here for the rest of your life!"_

"_I can try."_

"_What about school? What about your mom, who just lost her best friend too and now is worried sick about her son? What about me and Spencer and the web show?" Carly paused, then spoke again in a gentler tone. "What about Sam?"_

"_What about her?" I asked._

"_Come on Freddie. I saw you two kissing at the lock-in. And I've seen the way you look at each other these days. It's like you two are in a bubble together and no one else can get in."_

_I shrugged. "Bubbles pop."_

_Carly sighed warily. "Is there anything I can say that will make you come inside?"_

"_Nope."_

_She opened her mouth, as if about to say something else anyway, but then shut it again and turned toward the open window. "Bye Freddie," she murmured, stepping through the window and back into the building, leaving me alone again._

Spencer had come to see me a few minutes after Carly left. He wasn't much help either.

_"You see Freddie," he said, fingertips pressed together, "you have a condition that those in my profession like to call 'staying on the fire escape all the time and not going inside.'"_

_"Spencer," I said, "You don't have a profession."_

_"That's not the point."_

_"What exactly is the point?"_

_Spencer knit his eyebrows. "I'm not sure." He hopped up from the window sill and patted me on the back. "Good talking to you, Fredd-o." And with that he went back inside._

In fact, pretty much the only person who hadn't come to see me on the fire escape was Sam. When we had that brief conversation about just who was in charge of the book now was when I'd first turned to the fire escape. I hadn't seen Sam since.

There was a knock on the window. As usual, I ignored it. The knock came again, this time louder. Again, I ignored it. Instead of another knock, I heard the window slide open and the sound of footsteps stomping towards me angrily.

"Okay, enough of this shit," said a voice behind me. "You're coming inside."

I turned around in my chair to look at the source of the voice. Sure enough, two angry blue eyes stared back at me, a mane of blonde hair whipping around them in the wind.

"Go away, Sam," I muttered, turning back around and continuing to gaze at the noisy city below. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, just about to set. I stared into it, not caring about the damage my mom always said it would do to my eyes.

"I'm not leaving," Sam said behind me. "Now I've left you alone out here all this time while everyone else tried to get you to come in because I knew that you wanted to be left alone. I get that. But it's been a week! You have to get on with your life eventually!"

I scoffed. "No, you don't 'get' it. You barely even knew her."

"I knew my dad," she said icily. "I knew him before the drinking got so bad, when he wasn't an abusive asshole. And even when he was downing more six packs than I could count every day, it still hurt when he left. And believe it or not, before dad got so bad, mom was normal too. Melanie and I even got along pretty well." Her voice cracked. "Things change. And when they do, you hurt for a while. And that sucks. But then you get up, and you go on with your life."

I shrugged. "Maybe I'm not as strong as you after all."

There was silence for a moment, and then footsteps. I thought Sam, like all the others, had given up and was going to leave. But instead of heading for the window, she walked around my chair until she was standing right in front of me and grabbed me by the collar with one hand.

"Sam!" I yelled as I was pulled out of my seat. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Taking you inside," she said calmly, as if dragging other people around by their shirt collar was normal. "If you won't come inside on your own, I _can_ take you there by force."

"Oh, no you can't!" I said, struggling against her grasp, but to no avail.

"Look." She stopped dragging me and stood near the railing on the front side of the fire escape, my collar still clamped in her fist. I prepared myself to be punched. Instead she said something I never expected her to say. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of all the arguing and running away from each other and feeling depressed. So you know what I'm going to do? I'm not going to sit back and watch, that's for sure. I'm going to do something about it. No, I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but I can tell you now, it's not going to happen with you out here on this stupid fire escape by yourself. So either I'll let you go and you can come inside like the reasonable nub we all know you are, or I can drag you there. Your choice." I felt her fist close a little tighter around my collar, and she leaned back against the railing.

What happened next is still a blur. It happened so fast, it took me several seconds to even realize it was happening. I heard a creak, a metallic screech, and the next thing I knew, Sam was dangling from the fire escape floor by her fingertips, the railing she'd just been leaning against gone.

"Sam!" I yelled. "Are you okay?"

"Do I_ look _okay, Dipwad?" She looked down, and I heard her curse under her breath as she watched the railing plummet eight stories to the asphalt and land with a resounding _crash_. She looked back at me, her eyes less confident than her words let on. But that wasn't the only give-away.

_I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die! _Looks like we broke through the psychic block.

"Okay," I started, just as nervous as she was. "Don't worry, I'll get you down. Or up, I guess, depending on your point of–"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY?" She let out a shaky breath. "I don't need your help. I can get back up there by myself." She tightened her grip on the sheet of metal serving as the floor and pulled upward. She was strong, but there wasn't much to hold onto and her fingers began to slip.

"Careful!" I said.

"I know!" she growled, a determined look on her face. She stopped trying to pull herself up and started moving her hands sideways, edging towards the side with the ladder. At first, she seemed to have better luck this way, but then, about halfway there, one of her hands slipped off the metal.

"SAM!" I reached out and grabbed the hand. She was now clutching the fire escape with her right hand and handing onto my hand with her left. "Take my other hand!" I yelled down to her.

"Are you crazy? I'll fall!"

"I won't let you fall, but you have to let go so you can grab my hand!"

"No!"

"Sam, stop being difficult and grab my hand!"

"I've seen this before, remember?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise and confusion. What was she talking about? "You don't save me!" she continued. "You let go!" In her mind, I could see a black-haired girl falling from a large tree. A stone-faced boy sat in the tree, watching as she fell.

I finally realized what she was talking about. "That was Henry!"

"And you're just like him!" she said. "History is repeating itself Freddie, and if I let go, you're going to let me fall, just like Henry let Kate fall!" The girl in her mind was now crashing into the lake, causing a big splash all around her.

"Sam, you're forgetting one very important fact here!" I said, desperate.

"Yeah? And what's that?" The boy dived into the water after her, a moment too late. They both sank to the bottom of the lake and drowned.

"That I'm not Henry!"

There was a terrible pause, and then…

She nodded. I was so surprised that I almost forgot to grab her right hand when it finally let go of the fire escape, but remembered just in time. I started to tug on her hands, and slowly but surely, she started to rise. Her body was halfway above the fire escape floor now. Almost there. With a final, heavy grunt, I tugged her back onto the platform. We landed on the floor with a heavy thud.

Sam looked down at me. It looked like she was about to smile, but then her face quickly straightened when she realized her awkward position right on top of me. We both hopped up quickly, looking away from each other in embarrassment.

Sam cleared her throat. "Um, thanks," she muttered, looking at her shoes.

"No problem," I said, studying the floor. I ventured a glance at her, only to find her doing the same. Our eyes met, and I couldn't help it. I broke out into a wide grin. Sam grinned too. Before I knew what was happening, my arms were around her in a tight hug. To my surprise, she didn't hit me. In fact, she hugged me back.

"You know, for what it's worth," I said, "You're definitely still the strong one."

She scoffed. "Duh. I'm the strong one and you're my dorkish but faithful lackey. Was there ever any doubt?"

I laughed. "No, I suppose there wasn't."

I was just about to pull out of the hug when something behind Sam caught my eye. The sun was down now, and it was difficult to see the figure clearly in the quickly darkening night. The fact that it was blurry and slightly translucent didn't help matters. But I could just make out the familiar round face, the long, silver hair, and the ankle-length skirt.

"Moira?" I mouthed.

The figure came into focus a little more, and I could see her smile and put a finger to her lips, telling me to be quiet. She only stayed for a moment more, smiling at Sam and me. Then, with a quick wink, she dissolved into a swirl of bright, glowing lavender and disappeared back into the book.

"Um Freddie, you can let go of me now."

"Oh, right." I released Sam. She punched me in the arm. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Hugging me too long," she said, plopping down in my chair and pushing the psychic book in front of her to use as a footstool. "And being a nub." I chuckled and sat down beside her on the cool metal of the fire escape.

"So," I said, getting up after a few minutes of silence, "I guess we should probably get inside now."

"Nah," she said. She looked down at me and noticed my confused expression. "You've been out here all week. I guess another hour couldn't hurt."

I smiled and sat back down. Sam greeted me with another punch to my arm.

"Ow! What was _that _one for?"

She shrugged. "Kicks."

I rolled my eyes, but I was still smiling. I wasn't sure, but I thought I caught Sam smiling too.

It was then that I knew we'd be okay. Moira had been right; we'd been through a lot together. Heck, near-death experiences were starting to seem normal for us. But somehow, we made it through, and we were still standing.

Of course, life wasn't suddenly going to start being easy for us. I knew Sam too well to expect anything like that. But sitting on the fire escape with Sam, the sound of late night Seattle traffic filling our ears and the bright lights of the city making it nearly impossible to see any stars, I knew that she'd always be there with me. I had to face it; at that point, there was simply no getting rid of Samantha Puckett. But for some reason, despite her aggressive, carnivorous behavior, I was okay with that. I knew that, whether we did fall in love like the prophecy said or we simply stayed best friends forever, we'd survive. No matter what, we would be okay.

**Just one chapter to go now; an epilogue of sorts. Should be up soon. 'Til then!**


	28. weMade It

**And here we are at the LAST CHAPTER. Gah, it feels like I've been writing this story forever! I'm still kind of in shock that I'm actually done.**

**Before you start reading though, I just want to thank all of you reviewers, favoriters, alerters, and even you casual readers. I've had a lot of fun writing this story, and your support, even if it just added to the number of hits, has meant a lot to me. You guys made this my most popular story by far in terms of hits, reviews...everything. And really, the reviews made my day more times than I can count. You guys are awesome, and don't you forget it.**

**Oh, and don't think you've seen the last of me...unless you stop reading fanfiction after today. If you do keep reading fanfiction, you'll definitely see me again. I should be uploading a Spencer and Carly-centric family one-shot that I've been working on for a while some time before I leave for camp on the 12th. Then you guys won't see me again for at least seven weeks, but I should be back after that. You guys can't get rid of me that easily.**

**Okay. I'll shut up now and let you read. So without further adieu, I present you with the last chapter of iPsychic!**

**Okay, I lied, there's a little more adieu. Here's a disclaimer, for old times sake.**

**Disclaimer: And here to take us away with our final disclaimer is, you guessed it, none other than the one and only MR. T!**

"**I pity the foo' who thinks this girl owns iCarly! Mm!"**

"…And, well, I think you can figure out the rest," I finished, closing the book and chuckling at my own joke.

Moira, who was ten years old and far too cool to believe in fairy tales, just stared at me. "Fine," she said, getting up from her seat on the living room floor. "If you won't tell me how you and mom met, I'll just go call Grandma." She walked out of the living room, flipping her curly brown hair back indignantly and grumbling about stupid teachers and stupid assignments and stupid parents who wouldn't tell her anything but stupid fairy tales.

"But–" I called after her. "But it's true! Moira, wait! Come back! It's–"

I felt a pair of hands clamp onto my shoulders from behind. "Just let it go, Fredlumps," said a voice. "Just let it go."

I sighed. "Yeah. Maybe when she's older I'll tell her again and–"

"Or," Sam finished, "maybe it's best that she lives a normal life believing her parents are either crazy or liars."

"She can't grow up thinking that! Do you know what kind of problems she'll have if she spends her whole life thinking the people that raised her either lied to her or were mentally unstable?"

She shrugged. "Both of us had parents like that. We turned out alright. Well, I did anyway." I rolled my eyes, and she laughed. "Coming to bed?" she asked, grabbing the last stick of beef jerky from a package that had been full the day before and heading towards the bedroom.

"In a minute," I said.

"Whatevs," she shrugged. "Oh, and bring snacks, will you? This is sure to be gone by the time you get there." She held up her already half-eaten stick of jerky.

"I'm sure it will be," I muttered.

"What was that?" she called from the hallway outside the bedroom.

"Nothing, honey!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought!" I heard a door open and close, and Sam's footsteps faded away.

As soon as I was sure she was gone, I reopened the giant book lying on the coffee table. Sam, still every bit as considerate as she had been in high school, tended to tease me when I got sentimental, so I never did this unless I was alone. I flipped through the yellowing pages until I came to the one I'd just been reading to Moira: a page written half in Sam's messy purple scrawl and half in my own neat black cursive.

I scanned the page and flipped to the next one, and the next one, and the next one, until all the black and purple pages that detailed our lives from the day we met until well into our adulthood had gone by. There were twenty-three of them in all; way more pages than any one psychic or psychic pair had used previously. When I'd pointed this out to Sam, and how future psychics wouldn't have as much room because of us, she hadn't been very concerned.

"_Eh, they can suck it up," _she'd said, dismissing the matter with a wave of her hand. _"If they want more room they can find their own damn book. This one's mine." _And just to prove her point and be her usual difficult self, she had taken out a large red sharpie and written on the next blank page as well, her writing so big that it covered the entire page.

I stared at the big, crimson "Love, Sam," for a moment, noticing how even it had faded over the years, before flipping back to another page that I hadn't seen in a while.

"Hey," I whispered, gazing at the page that was hers, its decades old ink faded worse than mine and Sam's. "I know it's been a really long time since I talked to you. I promised I'd always make time for you, but, well, things have been pretty crazy since the last time we talked. That was the day before the wedding, wasn't it? God, it doesn't seem that long ago. Can you believe, twelve years next November?

"A lot's happened since then. Sam and I had a baby; a little girl. She's ten now and full of spunk, just like her mother. We named her after you, you know. She really is a great kid. I think she'll live up to the name. No psychic powers though, which Sam and I are both thankful for. Although, we have reason to suspect little Charlie Gibson might have telekinesis. His shirts do have a tendency to fly off his body when he doesn't want to wear them, which really wears out his mother, Carly. She's alright though. She and Gibby seem to be really happy together.

"As for me and Sam, well, we're managing. She still drives me crazy, and I'm sure I do the same to her. But we made it, just like you said. We survived. I love her, you know. I never thought I would, but I do. And as surprising as it sounds, we're actually happy. I think you're a big part of that. You gave me the support I needed to get through life until I was strong enough to handle that crazy blonde. And I just wanted to say…thanks. For everything."

"Freddie!" Sam's voice called from the bedroom. "What's taking so long? I want ham and I want it now!"

"Just a minute!" I called back. "Sorry about that," I chuckled. "We just found out a few weeks ago that there's going to be a new addition to the family. Sam's already using the 'eating for two' excuse to get me to bring her food all the time. I'd better go before she eats the bedroom."

I got up from the couch and grabbed a package of sliced ham from the refrigerator. When I walked into the bedroom, Sam smiled up at me. Or rather, she smiled up at the pig meat in my hands. She grabbed it out of my grasp and immediately started digging in.

"Isn't there anything you'd like to say to me?" I asked, climbing into bed next to her. "Two little words that might possibly rhyme with 'Shmank shmoo?'"

She rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Thanks," she mumbled, giving me a quick, ham-flavored peck on the lips before returning to her snack.

"You're most welcome," I laughed, picking the novel I'd been reading up from the bedside table. I opened the book, but quickly shut it again. "On second thought, give me one more minute. I'll be right back."

"Hey, I've got ham now. Take all the time you need. Well…take five minutes. This ham should last me at least that long."

I kissed her cheek and trotted back into the living room, where the psychic book was still lying open on the coffee table. I smiled when I saw that a faint lavender glow was surrounding the pages; she'd come out to watch us again. After one final glance at the page entitled "The Clairvoyants," I closed the book and gave it a light pat.

"Night Moira," I whispered, turning off the light.

I stumbled through the dark back to the bedroom and saw that Sam had already fallen asleep, a slice of ham hanging out of her mouth and the rest of the package cradled in her arms. I climbed into bed next to her, ready for a good night's sleep. I'd definitely need it. I _always _needed it. Because let's face it, life with Sam is anything but boring.

******TH****E ****E****N****D****.**

* * *

**Bye guys. Thanks again for reading. :)**

**Love,**

**Abracadabra**


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